


The Book of You and I

by piperholmes



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Financial Struggles, Friendship, Infertility, Marriage, Miscarriage, Period Typical Sexism, Pregnancy, Sidlotte - Freeform, Some Heartache, Some angst, but super heavy with sidlotte, it just keeps growing, lack of birth control, life after HEA, love and comfort, primarily about Esther, the Babingtons, this is my opus, this is the story of two couples
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piperholmes/pseuds/piperholmes
Summary: After marriage, Esther and Babington begin to find happiness but understanding that happiness doesn’t mean a life free of struggle is one of the hardest lessons to survive. Sidney and Charlotte find a way to be together but discover that true love doesn’t always make life easier. This is a story of two couples, both finding happily ever after, but coming to learn that loss, heartache, sadness, sickness, exhaustion, fear, uncertainty, and tears are as much apart of finding joy as passion, safety, security, family, love, health, and laughter.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, Lord Babington/Esther Denham
Comments: 185
Kudos: 183





	1. I remembered where we started

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always loved stories that combine the realities of joy with the realities of heartache. I hope I achieve some balance with this. I also enjoy stories that speak to the “main couple” but through the lens of other characters. There are several Sidlotte stories that deal directly with their romance but I thought it would be fun to explore their story but to also explore the Babingtons’ as well and give them the focus. 
> 
> WARNING: this story deals with miscarriage. I know the pain caused by such loss and don’t want anyone to be caught unaware. I promise this is a happy story but not all moments are happy.
> 
> And finally, I expected this to be a quick one shot but as I was writing it just grew and grew so I’ve divided it into two parts. I’m sorry it’s so long. I hope that’s not too much of a deterrent! I’m going to do my best to have the second part up within the week.
> 
> Sorry for any typos or missed editing mistakes.

When Miss Esther Denham became Lady Babington she wasn’t entirely sure how her life would change. She’d been raised to be the wife of a peer, prepared by governesses and tutors to carry herself with command and control, to contain and lock away any signs of weakness and depth of feeling. Her mother’s words always buried deep within, wound around her heart and rooted in her bones. “Esther, women live under the thumb of men. Your father left us nothing but debts when he died so you have only your looks to recommend you. Your step-father will do what he can for you, but you cannot rely on him. You must never engage your heart. Marry for stability and comfort and always be prepared to be disappointed.”

Esther has not listened. She had allowed her heart to feel and love and had ultimately given pieces of herself to a man unworthy of her devotion. She’d been left destitute and heartbroken, the self-loathing near stifling.

It wasn’t just her love for Edward that had kept her from giving Lord Babbington a fair chance, it was her hatred for herself that convinced her Babington could never truly want her.

_I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. My dear girl, don’t you know that I’m in love with you?_

But what were words? They were cheap and easy to break. And yet, what had she to lose? She had no money, no family—beyond Lady Denham—no prospects. She was alone and wanting.

So she kissed and smiled and took what he offered. She supposed if she couldn’t have love or happiness she would give into the words that had haunted her and doomed her.

_Marry for stability and comfort and always be prepared to be disappointed._

She waited, wallowing in the lingering chill of the ice that had held her together for so long, expecting that great moment of disappointment, when Babington would prove the stability of men was as the waves, subject to the whims of the world.

And yet, in the time since her wedding, she found there were days when she forgot some of the heartache. Her husband loved as easily as he laughed. He delighted in her, took pains to ensure her happiness and her pleasure. Within months she had grown accustomed to his solicitations of her thoughts, input, and desires. She had to learn to navigate a life that was spent in the sunlight rather than the dark corners of a crumbling reality.

She began to lose the pretense.

When Charlotte Heywood had returned to Sanditon, she had beamed at her friend, reveling in the contentment that radiated from the once stoic and embittered woman, waving off the sadness in the corner of her own eyes when Esther inquired after her happiness. Lady Babington felt something new in that moment: a burning desire to help others find a better way to live and to love.

But there was something that crept in the shadows, late at night, when sleep didn’t so readily take her. At a little over halfway into the first year of marriage, she had begun to look towards another, more tangible side effect of marriage. She had few friends, but her pool of acquaintances had grown significantly, and she couldn’t miss the knowing smiles and the not-so-subtle glances to her middle.

She had never thought of herself as a mother, never believed she could be maternal or warm, and never dreamed she’d ever even desire the opportunity to try. She had seen her husband’s joyful, playful demeanour and knew he’d be the kind of father that she had never had the pleasure to know. He would love and care and provide for their children. He’d pass on traditions and stories. He’d create games for their amusement and spoil them with gifts and ensure holidays were truly a time of celebration and family.

She had expected to be disgusted with such notions but found a growing excitement and anticipation at being able to give that to him.

Only, she hadn’t, yet. She would blush to consider the times she and Babington had enjoyed each other's attention, if she didn’t smile quite so readily when she recalled those times together—the tender touches, the lingering kisses, the heavy strokes, and the consuming pleasure. She had been surprised by how much laughter had carried on between them in even the most passionate moments.

The expectation of a blessed event had begun to take root.

“Well, Esther, I imagine you’ll be making an announcement soon enough,” Lady D had grumbled one day at tea. “Lord Babington will be wanting an heir I’d expect.”

Esther had merely rolled her eyes, once again adopting the haughty, tight posture that had protected her for so long, desperate to hide the worry that had begun to fester.

She would, at times, catch Babington frowning at her lightly, watching her for moments before turning away. She had begun playing the argument out in her head, how she would shield herself from his disappointment and accusations. She had begun avoiding him during the day, taking long walks with Charlotte and claiming a headache as means to decline their morning rides.

She knew not whether she feared he’d seek her out or feared he wouldn’t.

But, of course, he did. He had proven long ago that he would always pursue when she ran. He did not hunt her. She never felt his prey, not like before and never with him, when she always felt on her guard and the need to bury herself amongst the weeds to camouflage her pain. No, this was something warm and tender. He sought her to save her, to save himself.

“Please Esther,” he began one night, refusing to leave her to her own despair. “Tell me, my love. What thorn has pierced our happiness? Have you heard from Sir Edward? Has Lady D been causing mischief. Please, speak with me.”

She had wanted to deny his claims, glibly tease the worry from his eyes, like the learned movements of a dance, to follow easily what she had trained her body and heart to do, time and time again. Yet she found she could not.

“I...fear that I am not yet with child,” she said slowly, allowing the words the freedom of space and time.

He had blinked, seemingly caught unaware.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Is that...well...that is, then you are not...tired...of me?”

It was her turn to feel surprised.

She had spent weeks picturing this difficult moment, building the fear and rejection in her head, and, of course, the _reality_ was them both laughing at their ridiculousness.

After a time, they lay together, wrapped up in the intimacy of husband and wife, and spoke honestly. He held her as she allowed the emotions to escape the prison she’d held them in for too long, and she listened as he assured her that while he hoped one day they would experience parenthood, his true joy came from her, and she would always be enough to bring him happiness.

And Esther realized she believed him.

It was a moment greater than love. She had loved before.

But now she trusted.

Now she knew what it was to be loved.

She felt she could say it, and whispered, “I love you.”

Babington went still, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “My dear girl, do you mean it? Truly?”

She’d laughed, a happy, delighted sound. “Truly.”

They’d made love again, slowly, gently. Recommitting and worshipping.

In the weeks that followed, Esther felt the fear draining away, but the sadness remained.

Still no child.

When Charlotte came over one afternoon for tea, Esther took in the tired, sad smile and again felt that burning desire to help.

“It seems Mr. Parker and Mrs. Campion’s wedding has been delayed once again,” she said, noting the tightness around Miss Heywood’s eyes.

“Indeed,” was the only response.

“Babbers said that Mr. Parker seems quite altered from the summer.”

“Oh?” The feigned uninterest nearly made Esther smile.

“Yes. Babington mentioned that last summer he’d seen a change in Mr. Parker, that he’d seen some of the happy, mischievous Sidney that he’d known back in school begin to return, but that since the end of the summer he’d lost that bit of levity.”

The pain she saw on Charlotte’s face, fleeting as it was, proved enough to confirm her theory. From that moment Esther became committed to reuniting the lovers.

She kept the night Sidney showed up to their home--deeply in his cups, broken and desperate for some hope--a close secret. She’d ensured a bed was prepared then left him with her husband to sit with him most of the night in the library.

Sidney had bowed to her the next morning, his cheeks pink with embarrassment, an apology on his lips, but she’d silenced him with a shake of her head. She recognized the darkness he lived in, and was committed to helping him find the way out.

It seemed that whatever Lady Esther Babington put her mind to would come to fruition. She’d roped her darling husband into her scheming, along with the only Parkers she could stand to be around--which meant just about everyone but Tom--and the devious and quite clever Miss Lambe. Even Crowe found a part to play.

Their combined machinations and planning, including a perfectly timed introduction of Mrs. Campion to a recently widowed Earl during a hunting party at Babington’s family estate, brought her dearest friend, Charlotte, and her husband’s dearest friend, Sidney, to a state of holy matrimony. Charlotte had beamed and Sidney had smiled deeply, but Esther saw the tinge of uncertainty that colored his eyes—the inability to believe he was finally happy, finally free to love—and recognized herself. She had to believe he too would awaken one morning and believe himself worthy of love.

The night of the wedding, long after the bride and groom had made their hasty exit (hands entwined and smiles shy) and after the last of the many Heywoods and Parkers had returned to their homes, she and her husband had revelled in the memories of their own wedding night.

The weeks past (Sidney had whisked Charlotte off to places unknown, a gleam of excitement between them when they came to say goodbye before leaving on their wedding trip) and still no child.

Until there was.

And then there wasn’t.

Lord and Lady Babington hardly had time to believe it to be true when one midday Lady Babington began to feel an aching pain low in her back that grew so severe she had cried out. A maid had found her gripping the banister, the pain moving around to her side and finally to deep within.

The doctor had been fetched, but Esther already knew. She knew in the blood staining her chemise and sheets.

She had cried when the fear of the unknown gripped tightly to her heart, her hand gripped tightly to her husband’s, but when the doctor had confirmed the quiet loss, she could only feel silence.

“You can try again soon,” had been the doctor’s whispered words--cheap and breakable.

She’d refused Babington’s offer to send for family or friends, anyone who could help her understand. She wanted no one to know their pain. Their loss was theirs alone.

The silence spread in her.

Babington did his best to pull her from her heartbreak, grieving with her, but she found herself once more in the weeds.

Two months later they welcomed the Parkers home from their trip, a new found contentment and joy radiating from the pair, a secret knowing smile passing between them. A secret Esther understood as soon as she saw Charlotte pale when offered gooseberry cheese and Sidney’s gaze sharpen with concern. She watched as her friend’s hand went to her stomach before quickly smoothing out the fabric of her dress.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” Charlotte muttered before rising and making her exit.

Sidney and Babington stood, Sidney giving an apologetic smile.

As the men sat, Babington reached for Esther’s hand, his fingers lightly twining with hers.

“Everything well, I hope.” He spoke for them both.

“I’m sure,” Sidney answered easily, but definitively, ending all inquiry.

When Charlotte returned, she too offered an apologetic smile before resuming her seat, giving her husband a reassuring look when he pressed the back of his hand lightly against her thigh.

“Sidney,” Babbers began, “would you care to see my latest equestrial purchase?”

With a bow, the gentleman made their exit.

Esther smiled tightly at her husband before moving her eyes to her tea. She watched the ripples play on the surface, the light coming and going, and she knew she had a choice to make.

Which Esther was she now?

With a deep breath she looked up to her friend, her smile growing more easy--decision made.

“My, you two waste no time.”

Charlotte blushed but gave a grateful smirk to the teasing in Esther’s tone.

“We only had it confirmed last night,” she answered. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“How delightful.”

The words fell easily from her lips, the heaviness behind them keeping her grounded, focused.

“We weren’t…” Charlotte hesitated. “That is we weren’t expecting it to happen so quickly…”

To Esther’s horror she saw her friend’s eye take on a glassy sheen.

“Charlotte?”

The other woman wiped quickly at her eyes, but the pink in her cheeks deepened, testament to her distress.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I don’t mean to be such a watering pot.”

“You are not happy about the baby?” Esther hedged, surprised by such a thought for someone as seemingly maternal as Charlotte.

“No!” The response came quickly. “I mean no, of course I’m happy about the baby. Sidney and I could not be more delighted, only…”

“Only?”

“Well, it did happen quite quickly,” Charlotte cleared her throat, prevaricating.

“Charlotte,” Esther said, her face taking on the bored, uninterested mask. “Just speak plainly.”

Charlotte took a deep breath, not unaware of the shift in her friend’s expression. “Very well. I merely worry that people will suspect Sidney and I anticipated our wedding vows,” she admitted in a rush, unable to meet Esther’s eyes.

Esther’s eyebrows drew together, momentarily confused by such a confession, before she laughed, heartily.

Charlotte, for her part, seemed unsure how to proceed.

“My dear,” Esther began. “You’re hardly the first woman to find herself in the family way after her honeymoon. And people can count back easily enough.”

Charlotte presses her lips together, her gaze once again anywhere but with Esther, before with a small huff said, “That’s just it. We did.”

Esther frowned. “Did what?”

“Anticipate our wedding vows.”

Esther’s eyes widened for a moment before she recovered, forcing her face into a neutral expression.

“By nearly a month,” Charlotte continued, her words coming fast, like the water through a split dam. “We didn’t mean for it to happen. We knew the dangers of adding to the scandal that surrounded us following the end of his engagement with Mrs. Campion, but we were so happy to be together, to have a second chance and there came a desperation and wildness with such a reprieve—like running in the sunshine of spring after a cold and dark winter. It was intoxicating. We wanted, needed, more of each other…” Charlotte trailed off, now a bright red. “Well, it happened, and now I am uncertain whether—”

“Whether the arrival of your happy event will serve as testament to your…indiscretion?”

To say she was surprised by her country friend’s admission was an understatement. She never assumed the correct, naïve little Miss Heywood capable of stepping outside the structures of society. Sidney Parker, however, she knew set very little by such ideas, though she had believed he’d abide by every rule to keep his Charlotte as free from stain as possible. Much had been done to try and keep the scandal surrounding them to a minimum, but no one had come out unscathed. The Parkers carried some notoriety about them in London and even among some in Sanditon. A premature birth would only add to the flame. She honestly couldn’t quite decide if she was irritated by their conduct or amused.

“Well I hardly think it will matter since you’re married. A few raised eyebrows and whispers behind teacups by some bored bitties, but you’ll hardly be ostracized,” Esther offered lightly.

Charlotte’s brow lowered, her face scrunching up with concern. “You’re right, of course, but my family really struggled with Sidney. My parents were not too pleased with…how everything turned out and the threat of scandal. They believe Sidney is to blame, and I know they’d blame him for...well they’d believe he compromised me but that’s not how...it was my idea you see, I insisted we…” Charlotte waved her hand vaguely about, allowing Esther to fill in the blanks.

”My, my, you are full of surprises today,” she finally said, amusement winning out, but her sweet friend looked so miserable and embarrassed. “I suppose you’ll just have to rely on the same passion that prevented either of you from considering your family, or their opinion, when you seduced your Sidney before marriage.”

Charlotte’s mouth opened then closed, her eyes wide with surprise.

Esther feared she’d quite offended her friend, when a soft giggle escaped. Charlotte’s hand flew to her lips as another bark of laughter slipped through and then another. Soon both women were bent forward, a shared release of ridiculous delight permeating the air.

They laughed heartily for some time until both women held their sides and could continue no more.

“Well Lady Babington, I had quite forgotten the shocking accuracy of your tongue,” Charlotte said easily, wiping the tears from the corner of her eye. “You are right, of course. I am being a simpleton and what use is there in worrying over what can’t be controlled or changed? I do not regret my actions and the end result of a child is all the consequences I care to devote my time towards.”

“Especially if the means by which you came by such a consequence is as enjoyable as the blush in your cheeks seems to suggest,” Esther offered with aplomb.

Charlotte merely reached for her teacup before sipping slowly, her eyes playfully.

They grew quite for a moment, the natural quiet of recovery following an enthusiastic guffaw, then Charlotte set down her cup and pressed her lips together once again.

“There is another matter,” she said slowly. “Only I am unsure whether to broach the topic or continue on playing the ignorant acquaintance.”

Esther frowned lightly, her breathing taking on a heavy, strange feel.

“I believe us to be friends Esther, and I only wish for the connection to deepen. I know what I owe to you and your husband, what you have done for me and Sidney...I cannot express…”

Esther waved her off, but Charlotte continued, her voice struggling under the weight of the emotions they carried.

“Please, allow me to thank you. And please know that I would never wish to harm or hurt you in any way. I know the private person you are, and I always wish to respect that. I have sensed deep heartache in you. I’ve heard it in the glib, dry comments you’ve made about your own expectations of motherhood, and I will say nothing more on the matter except that I am always at your disposal as a friend or sister. And I understand if…”

Esther again saw the tears in her friend’s eyes and fought the instinct to retreat. She could see it in her deep, brown eyes. She could see the truth of herself that she believed she had hidden so well. An understanding passed between them, an understanding that could only pass between two women.

“I appreciate your offer and I am grateful. Please do not distress yourself on my account. I am pleased for you and Mr. Parker, truly.”

Charlotte reached for her hand, and they sat once again in silence. Fear and uncertainty surrounded them both as they each walked a different path, but they were held together by mutual understanding and affection.

After the Parkers left, Lord Babington asked after her, the compassion in his voice her undoing. She could not answer him, excusing herself and fleeing to the garden.

She had chosen to leave behind a world of bitterness, but was struggling to reconcile her own heartache with the joy she felt for her friends. They had achieved so easily what she longed for and struggled to obtain.

She walked about for sometime, lost, thinking, feeling, when she felt a presence behind her. She knew it was him and made no move when he wrapped his arms around her.

“I knew you needed some time,” Babington whispered in her ear, “but I could not leave you alone in this.”

The sun had begun to set, the heavy cloud cover allowing only small rays of light through the grayness, a decided chill now in the air.

She pressed herself more fully into him.

“I do not want to be selfish in this,” she finally confessed.

“Esther, how can I help you know that your feelings are important and acknowledging them is not a selfish act?”

“But there is some selfishness to it. I want to be happy for them, I _am_ happy for them but…”

“But why can they have such joy and you seemed denied?”

She said nothing, the pain of loss and emptiness clawing up from deep inside, choking her. Her silence wrapping about her, scrunching her face as she lost the battle against her tears.

Still he held her, her back pressed against his chest, her own arms now holding tightly to those holding her up.

“You know,” he began, allowing her the privacy of her release. “When Sidney admitted to me of his wife’s condition, my first thought was of the child we lost.”

Esther stiffened, caught unprepared by his admission. They had not spoken much of that, nothing of any true meaning anyway. They had cried and comforted each other, but had not shared much beyond that.

“It...was?” She asked slowly, her voice gravelly.

“Yes.”

She turned to look at him, her husband, the man who had taught her to love and to see the good this life had to offer.

“I think about the child every day,” he said, his red rimmed eyes meeting hers.

“I do too,” she answered simply.

As the last of the sun’s light disappeared, the stillness of twilight stretched around them, allowing a calmness to take root. They took dinner in the library, an informal affair of bread, cheeses, and fruits. As the fire crackled, they spoke of all they had lost and shared all they hoped.

They began to heal.

As the months passed, Esther and Charlotte’s friendship deepened, and Esther struggled whether to mention the child she’d lost. It always sat just on the tip of her tongue, but then Charlotte would stroke her now rounded belly and the impulse would fade. Was it fair to burden such a darkness on a woman soon to give birth? Rather she spoke of her own hopes to one day carry and welcome a child and did share her fear of never experiencing such a gift.

Charlotte, to her credit, never expressed pity for her friend. The seemingly naïve country girl truly possessed an astuteness and wisdom that Esther found comforting and trustworthy.

Charlotte approached her privately one day to ask if she would feel comfortable being her child’s godmother. The request surprised Esther, but she found she was quite moved by such an offer. Charlotte admitted that Sidney was eager to have the Babingtons over for dinner to make a formal request of the pair, but Charlotte had believed she needed to speak with Esther in private and allow the woman a chance to consider and reject the request if she needed.

That was when Esther had truly understood the love and respect Charlotte had for her. She accepted without delay, delighting in the joy on Charlotte’s face. She then promised to act surprised when Sidney repeated the request, and the two women reveled in the silly secret they shared from their husbands.

It was in that moment Esther finally felt she could share with Charlotte her loss. They held hands and walked through the garden, swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks, as they took on each other’s burdens in a way women had for centuries.

Shortly after the Babingtons had happily accepted their role as future godparents, Esther awoke to her body’s hints of new life. When the evidence became too much to ignore and the confirmation received, Esther struggled to find comfort. Happiness and anticipation warred with fear and dread inside her. Babington grew more solicitous of her care, earning him a stern set down and a tender smile.

Charlotte was well along now, their walks growing shorter and shorter, even as the anticipation grew.

“Charlotte,” Esther said as they made their way back slowly towards the estate one day. “I do not plan to tell many just yet, but I wanted you to know that…”

She took a deep breath.

“I am with child.”

Charlotte erupted with joy and hugged her friend as tightly as her burgeoning middle would allow. Esther begged her discretion, securing a promise of secrecy until she felt more assured.

“All will be well,” Charlotte offered, her dimple cheeks unable to hide her joy. Knowing what Esther has been through, she added, “This is a new chance.”

Esther wished she could join her in her confidence. Indeed, as the weeks passed and Esther began to see the changes begin in her body, she began to allow herself to believe.

When Sidney Parker was awakened late in the night by a footman knocking on their cottage door, with an urgent missive from his friend Babbers, pleading for Charlotte to attend Esther, he knew the worst had happened. He closed his eyes, an awful anxiousness deep in his stomach as he looked to his own heavily pregnant wife. He wished to spare her this, to spare his friends this.

He gently roused his sleeping Charlotte and did his best to break the news to her with as little distress as possible. As expected, Charlotte’s eyes grew glassy, even as she demanded he help up and into a dress.

Esther had awoken to the pain, crying out as she felt the warm blood between her thighs, soaking through her night dress and blankets. Her husband had run for help, sending for the doctor and, though he said nothing of it to his wife, sending for Charlotte Parker as well.

Esther was bleeding heavier this time, the pain more intense, as her body forced the life from within her. Babington did his best to get her cleaned up some and as comfortable as possible. When the doctor arrived he refused to leave, wiping his wife’s brow and wet cheeks as she pleaded for the doctor to do something. But of course there was nothing to be done. There was no medicine that could contend with Mother Nature.

It was all over by the time the Parkers arrived, and Esther was too exhausted and dazed to fight her husband’s insistence that Charlotte come see her. Lord Babington excuse himself, unable to hold back his own grief any longer, and needing a moment to collect himself, to find some sense of control before he could properly comfort his distraught wife. He found Sidney in the library, a dram of brandy in each hand. Babington took the offered drink, downing it in one go, the burn of liquid melting away the last of his strength. Without words, his head fell and he began to sob.

Sidney said nothing. He had no words, only the remembered pain of loss and heartache. He stepped to his friend and merely held him as best he could.

For her part, Esther lay stoic, staring up at the ceiling, unmoving, drained and numb.

Charlotte lowered herself carefully to the floor, kneeling by the bed, her face near Esther’s, her belly carefully hidden. But Esther could still see. She could still see the fullness of Charlotte’s face, the heaviness of her breasts, and the awkward way she turned her body to accommodate the child sleeping beneath her heart. She looked as Leto of old, a veritable Titanides of fertility and motherhood. While Esther felt as mad and angry as Rhea, often pregnant but never truly a mother to her children.

“Darling,” Charlotte whispered, her small fingers coming to stroke Esther’s hair from her eyes in that maternal way that seem to come so easily. “Darling, would you like me to go?”

She did. She wanted her gone. She wanted to just lie there, wretched and alone. That was safe. It was the home she had lived in for years. It had seemed a miserable existence but that was before she had known such happiness and hope. To be brought into love and safety only to now find herself wrenched from such a state seemed a crueler, more unforgiving way to live.

She said nothing though, merely stared unseeing into the shadows cast by the only candle burning in the room. The silence that had taken permanent space in her heart began to spread once again, stronger, more potent this time.

But the warmth of Charlotte’s touch, the sincerity and grief in her eyes, seemed a tenuous tether, refusing to allow Esther to drift beyond recovery.

“You are not alone.”

The words, spoken with such love and conviction, were enough to slip through the fog and Esther suddenly, desperately needed proof. She shifted enough to allow Charlotte space on the bed, and the other woman lumbered up beside her. One woman so full of life, the other empty and bleeding, and both wept.

When Lord Babington returned a short time later, Esther slept in her friend’s arms. Charlotte kissed her cheek before struggling to sit up and extricate herself without waking her. Babington quickly came to her aid, gently guiding his slumbering wife back against the pillows and assisting Charlotte to her feet.

“Mrs. Parker,” he began, his voice low and soft. “I thank you for—”

She shushed him, a sad smile on her lips, as she gave the hand that still held hers a light squeeze. He swallows hard, the emotions threatening again to erupt.

“Sidney is outside the door,” he said after clearing his throat. “I told him there is a room prepared if you wish to stay, but he said he’d leave the decision up to you.”

Charlotte took a moment to consider. “I think we will return home and come again tomorrow, if you both allow.”

Babington nodded, his head falling to his chest.

Charlotte reached out, her hand coming to his cheek. “We are here if you need anything, but know, we also understand if it’s too difficult for her or you to be around us right now.”

Her eyes fell significantly to her rounded middle.

He shook his head. “I appreciate your sensitivity to the situation, but she needs love. She’s always needed love. You love my wife…”

His voice broke.

“We will surround her... with love…”

He struggled through the words and Charlotte’s own eyes once again filled.

“We will return tomorrow,” she answered, forcing the words past the ache in her throat.

She moved to the door as Babington slipped into the bed, pulling his wife into his arms. Once she closed the door quietly behind her, she turned and found herself reaching blindly for her own husband in the darkened hallway. Sidney was ready and waiting for her, his arms wrapping around her as she buried her face against his chest. She sobbed into him, yielding all restraint, allowing him to take her weight as his own. He held her up, his strength surrounding her, refusing to waver.

When her tears abated and she could right herself once again, she leaned from him but didn’t release herself from his hold, her dark eyes meeting his.

“Babington wanted me to extend his apologies for pulling you out of bed, and he worried his lack of foresight on how this might affect you in your current condition would be cause for upset.”

Charlotte frowned. “Ridiculous. I would not have stood to be excluded at a time like this when they both need our support and love.”

Sidney’s lip twitched. “I told him as much.”

“Good,” she said. “Only…”

“Yes?”

“Perhaps I can be a little more in need of your comfort right now?”

He took in the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the natural exhaustion of creating new life, now compounded by the grief that surrounded them. He kissed her brow.

“Whatever you desire, if it is in power to give,” he promised.

“Take me home,” she pleaded. And when they arrived at their own small home, they fell into bed, exhausted.

When Esther awoke, the sun was well in the sky. She had no memory of her husband’s return, but he still held her tightly to him. She shifted some, enough to know he was awake, and sighed.

All she wanted to do was go back to sleep, to not think or feel or ache. Oblivion was her quick and ready solace. Except she felt sticky and damp between her legs and an uncomfortable pressure taunted her.

“I need…” She began but her voice was rough and gravely from disuse. Babington reached for a cup, bringing it to get dry lips, and she drank the cool water greedily.

Once done, she tried again. “I’ve bled through the cloth.”

“Right,” he said, moving to stand. She watched as he stretched dramatically, as if he'd not moved at all through the long hours, and, if she had to guess, that was exactly what had happened.

He rang for her maid and carefully helped her from the bed. Esther was able to relieve herself and clean up with lukewarm water. Soon soiled linens were replaced with fresh, and Esther was redressed in a clean night dress and tucked back into bed.

“I’ll have a tray brought up,” her husband said.

She gave him a small, empty smile. “Go get some air,” she told him. “I’m just going to sleep some more.”

He frowned at her in that tender way that always made her feel important, as if she were all that he ever had to consider.

“I just want to sleep,” she said, keeping her voice even.

He watched her a moment longer before nodding. “I will go and clean up as well. The Parkers will visit later.”

She noticed he didn’t give her the option to decline and part of her wanted to argue, to be left alone in her grief, but the part that went quiet deep inside her didn’t care enough to even try any more.

He kissed her forehead, his fingers lingering softly against her chin.

“You are my life, Esther,” he said, meeting her face fully. “We will find a way through.”

She said nothing, could say nothing, nothing was all she had.

After he left, she rolled over and shut it all out.

When she next awoke, she found Charlotte Parker standing near the window, her hands pressed firmly to the small of her back, her well-rounded belly protruding dramatically.

Esther watched her, making no move to alert her to the vigil. She watched as the other woman swayed slightly to and fro, her hands moving in small circles, massaging the concave of her body, eyes closed, lost in some imaginings of lullabies and baby toes.

Esther no longer waited for the bitterness; that had been loved out of her. She knew she would never go back to the creature of isolation and shame she was before, rather there was a bleeding rawness that seemed to come with every heartbeat, as if her heart had been made of glass all along, and that glass had finally shattered, leaving only the shards to cut and sliced her open.

“Esther?”

She turned, surprised. She had not seen her husband sitting by her bed. But the look in his eyes told her he had seen her, had seen all of her.

Charlotte then moved to the other side of the bed. They each took a hand, and she knew she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t much and felt a distant hope, like trying to remember a dream, but it was something. It was something to hold to.

Charlotte came every day until Esther was strong enough to be out of bed. Some days Sidney would take Babington out with him, some days her husband never left her side, and she felt loved and cared for. She recognized how grateful she was for that understanding, but also knew it was like a small bandage on a gaping wound.

Soon Charlotte’s visit began to be less frequent, her advancing condition making the daily excursion difficult, and, when Sidney found them in the garden one afternoon, his wife fast asleep against a cushion, warm in the sunlight, Esther told him to be the sensible one and keep his wife at home.

Sidney gave her a sardonic grin, one she knew and recognized.

“You think I’ve not tried?”

Esther nearly laughed. “Seems you’ve married well, Mr. Parker.”

“As have you, Lady Babington,” came his quick response.

She briefly wondered if that was more a slight against her rather than a praise of her choice, but she could easily see the sincerity in his face and took it as the compliment it was meant. She was surprised to realize how altered her understanding of Sidney Parker had become, remembering well the dark, brooding, mysterious man that had returned to Sanditon that fateful summer.

“There was a time, perhaps, when you and I were convinced such happiness was unattainable or even fanciful.”

He bowed in acknowledgement of her questioning tone. “I believe that’s true.”

There was a moment of quiet between them, not an awkward, uncomfortable quiet, rather a moment of catalyst that allowed for some greater recognition between them.

Sidney knelt lower, finding towering above the two women ungentlemanly. His dark eyes met her light blue, and she saw a tenderness that spoke to the shadow of mutual insecurity and shared loneliness.

“Lady Babington... Esther, we have been blessed with the love of two very happy, very forgiving, and very patient people.” His voice was low, rumbling from deep in his chest. “Each very good at picking up the broken bits of us and putting them back together.”

He glanced to where Charlotte still slept, his jaw tightening as he worked to keep control.

“But what if picking up our broken pieces cuts them to shreds?” She asked, not pausing to consider or weigh her words, allowing herself to speak what she could not say before. She feared her words, but knew that Sidney Parker understood.

She watched him swallow, his chin falling to his chest as he considered her question. Finally, he allowed a small breath before answering.

“I’m sorry for your recent loss.” He spoke softly, knowing these were not things discussed between mixed company. He glanced again to his sleeping wife but did not allow his look to linger. She saw a moment of fear light in his dark eyes, a fear she knew all too well.

“I can’t imagine the pain of losing a child,” he continued. “But I know your husband would happily bleed for you and that he, and she,” he nodded towards Charlotte, “are stronger and more stubborn than they appear and will always love us more than we can hate ourselves. We need only to trust and believe in that.”

It was an odd sentiment, but Esther found herself greatly moved by the idea. She thought of her husband’s clear, blue eyes and cheeks that pinked too easily. She could hear his laugh and smell the smokey scent of his cheroot. She took comfort in him, even as she felt empty and lost.

“Take your wife home, Mr. Parker,” she finally said, no longer able to continue the conversation. “And convince her to stay there and rest until I am a godmother. It’s not proper for a woman to spend her confinement traipsing about the seaside.”

She raised her eyebrow at him, lending her the air of an empress giving a royal decree.

Sidney laughed. “I’m not sure my wife will ever be bothered by what is proper.”

“We must sometimes be the stronger one,” she added, her tone softer. “You must believe all will be well.”

Sidney bowed in acquiesce, gently reaching to awaken Charlotte from her rest, smiling bemusedly at her momentary confusion and delightfully frowny face.

Esther had to turn away as Charlotte unmindfully stroked her belly. She desperately wanted all to go well for her dear friend but hated that she was plagued with the nagging pain of jealousy—a jealousy she would not, could not ever fully acknowledge.

Three weeks later, Lord and Lady Babington received word that Mrs. Parker’s crisis had begun. The note arrived just as they sat down to breakfast, and Lord Babington‘s eyes narrowed some.

“Shall we head there now, do you think?” He asked, watching her carefully.

“Heavens, how should I know?” Esther laughed, the sound brittle and hollow. “I know very little of bringing a baby into the world, a fully formed, healthy baby anyway.”

“Esther…”

“Yes, I suppose we should ride over there now,” she said, speaking over him. “Though as I understand it, a woman can labour for hours and hours before the child arrives.”

As luck would have it, Charlotte Parker seemed made for childbirth. By the time the Babingtons put in an appearance, they were met by a deliriously happy and relieved Sidney Parker.

“A boy,” he beamed proudly, pulling them into the home. “The clever girl delivered a perfect, tiny boy! All healthy and robust with ten fingers and ten toes.”

“And Charlotte?” Esther asked, though she could gather the answer.

“Amazing,” Sidney replied, looking up the stairs as if he could see her. “Mrs. Heywood, her mother, who arrived early last week, said she’d never seen a baby come more easily into the world.”

Esther had to blink and bite her lip to keep from reacting. She’d never seen Sidney quite so buoyant and, she would have to say, giddy.

“I’ve only just left them. Mary and Mrs. Heywood are helping them both get cleaned up,” he continued, his arms moving about as if he no longer knew what to do with them. “I got to see them both for a few moments. He is the most incredible little creature, and Charlotte... she, I can’t even settle on the proper words... she was radiant.”

Lord and Lady Babington shared a secret, bemused look before a door opened and Sidney was called for.

“Come, come,” he urged, already running up the steps. “You must meet my son and see Charlotte.”

The room was bright, sunlight coming in, filling every inch. An exhausted, delighted Charlotte sat smiling widely in bed, a bundle held tightly to her chest, a picturesque Madonna. Sidney sat on the bed, a look of utter devotion and affection on his face as he gazed down at his wife and child. There was a feeling pervading the room, a unique sensation of excitement, uncertainty, achievement, and new levels of love.

Esther swallowed down her trepidation. She was glad the baby had arrived so quickly. She hadn't wanted to see. She didn’t want to witness the pain, the triumph, the shared maternal bond between the mothers in the room. She knew it was selfish, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Charlotte caught her eye, her face still red and puffy but clean, her grin firmly affixed. There was also an eagerness as she sat up straighter and lightly shooed Sidney off the bed, clearly indicating the spot was more meant for Esther.

Suddenly feeling self conscious, realizing she still wore her hat and gloves, Esther hesitated for only a moment, before quickly moving to the bed. Sitting carefully, trying to not jostle the new mother and child, she was unsure what was expected of her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Charlotte gushed. “I wanted you to be the first to hold him, apart from Sidney and myself, of course. His godmother takes precedence. ”

Before Esther had time to respond, Charlotte leaned forward and plopped the child in her arms with all the pride and happiness a mother could possess. She tense and had to fight the sense of panic bubbling just beneath her skin. Truth be told, she’d never held a baby before. She felt awkward and gauche, now very mindful of all the eyes in the room watching her.

“Is he not the most handsome, little darling?” Charlotte asked, her eyes fixed firmly on the child.

Esther looked down at the babe for the first time, really taking a moment to see what she held in her arms. Honestly, it wasn’t much to look at. She could see Sidney’s nose and Charlotte’s chin, but nothing much else of note. The baby slept, his face all wrinkly and red, his lips mashed together, with a patch of dark hair atop his head, and the rest of him was wrapped up tightly by the blanket, hidden from view. But he was the tiniest thing she’d ever seen, and he was warm and totally dependent on Esther for his protection and safety in that moment. Her shoulders relaxed and she pulled him tighter against her chest, an easy weight in her arms. She very much found herself not wishing to let go.

“The handsomest,” She breathed.

A short while later, as they bounced along in the carriage, Babington reached for her hand. The tears she’d held came crashing through at his touch, and she buried her face against him, sobbing for the children she’d never even gotten the chance to hold.

“Esther, my darling Esther,” Babington said, wrapping her up in his arms. “What shall I do, my dear girl? How can I make this easier for you?”

She could hear the desperation and need in his voice.

“Command me,” he pleaded. “Would you like leave? To travel and see some of the world?”

She said nothing, her tears and pain still choking all rational thought. Her arms ached under the weight of emptiness. She wound her arms more fully around him, holding tighter than was comfortable, yet neither complained.

“Just take me home,” she whispered.

She visited Charlotte and baby Nathaniel nearly every day.

“Between Sidney’s family and my own, it seemed every boys name had been claimed,” Charlotte explained during the first visit following the birth. “And we wanted him to have a name all his own. Georgianna actually suggested it, and, I admit, we both fell in love with it instantly. It does seem an awfully big name for such a tiny baby, but Sidney said he’ll grow into it.”

The baby still resembled a squashed potato, but Esther could see beautiful soft skin covered with a downy layer of fine hair and a strong brow that would dimple adorably when he scrunched his face just before crying. She nearly melted when his tiny pink lips rounded in a delicate yawn before emitting a soft whimper. She held him with more confidence this time, and the two women shared a look of utter fascination at even his smallest offerings of life.

Charlotte held nothing from her, but made no demands of her. She invited her in, never shying away from including her in some of the more intimate details of motherhood. There was the time she came to visit and found a sobbing Charlotte, drowned out only by the wailing of little Nathaniel as he struggled to feed those first few days. Esther had no words of advice, but she was able to help calm the exhausted mother and even settled the baby. One morning, after both Charlotte and Sidney has been up the entirety of the night with the baby, and they were both fractious and contentious, snapping waspishly at each other, Esther had offered to keep the baby, allowing them some time alone. She’d held the baby in her arms, walking around the Parkers’ small cottage, the smell of the sea thick in the air as the sky grew dark with heavy, ominous clouds. She held the sleeping child close, cherishing the gentle, burning ache as he lay peacefully in her arms. Despite the days beginning to cool, she could feel the crook of her arm growing damp from the heat of his skin. This little boy had found his way into her heart.

When the threat of rain became too much and she’d returned inside, finding both Charlotte and Sidney fast asleep, she’d eagerly spent the next hour allowing her mind to pretend, pretend in a life where she would never be without a child in her arms.

Esther began to feel more whole.

“You’re so good with him,” Charlotte said after Esther had managed to swaddle the baby after his feeding, rocking him gently to sleep.

The Parkers had hired a girl to help around the house every few days and help some with the baby, but Esther had been surprised by how involved Charlotte and Sidney were in the day to day rearing of the child. She knew money was an issue—had seen some of the worry in Charlotte’s eyes and the weariness in Sidney’s face at times—a great deal had been sacrificed by many to keep Tom Parker out of debtor’s prison, and Sidney’s steady London income had seemed to be the first victim of the eldest Parker’s poor decision making. Sidney’s choice in Charlotte was truly a blessing during these reduced circumstances. They had a small cottage, some chickens, and Charlotte would hunt grouse or fish. She knew Sidney worked most days helping Tom get back on his feet and that he relied heavily on Charlotte to ensure food was prepared and clothes kept clean. But even considering financial constraints, it was unusual for someone of the Parkers’ status to take on so much of the care and parenting. Yet, Esther was glad for it. She was able to learn about the mysteries that were kept from unwed women or women denied the role of mother.

She began to feel as if she could and would survive this world. The silent void within her beginning to slow its consumption of her. She felt a renewed purpose. Babington had smiled delightedly at her as she showed him the proper way to hold the baby and how to help rub the wind from him after feeding. She may not be a mother, but she could be motherly. She could love with a mother’s heart. Indeed, they both loved the baby greatly and stood proud and eager as godparents during the christening.

“I suppose still no news of your own to share?” Lady Denham pronounced loudly as every one gathered together to celebrate. Her pointed stare cutting through Esther, taking her breath away. An uncomfortable silence seeped into the room.

Esther straightened her back, her chin raised as she met the older woman’s bluntness with her own. “No, Aunt.”

“Mmm... pity.”

“To Mrs. Parker and Nathaniel,” Lord Babington said suddenly, gently pulling Esther more fully to his side. “May they both continue to grow in health.”

After the baby and Charlotte had been toasted, Sidney stood, raising his glass. “To Lord and Lady Babington. I am grateful and humbled by the love and care you’ve shown my son. Charlotte and I could not have chosen better for him.”

As family and friends raised their glasses, Esther’s eyes met Sidney’s and she was moved by the sincerity she saw there. Charlotte, who’d flitted about all day smiling increasingly, hurried over to her friend with the baby, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before plopping the four month old into her arms.

The gesture was clear for all to see.

The sting of Lady Denham’s sharp barb still burned within her, but she ignored it with equanimity.

“Insufferable old bat,” Babington declared once they’d left the gathering. He tugged angrily at his cravat, making a mess of his valet’s intricate knots. “I don’t know why you persist in including her in your life. She’s nothing but vinegar and delights in upsetting people. What has she ever done for you?”

He was quite worked up now, having pulled the cloth from his neck and balling it up to toss away.

Esther gave him a small smile, her hand coming to resting calmingly against his chest.

“Why, me dear fool, she brought you to me,” she answered, resting her head near her hand. “I know she is a bitter old woman, but a life lacking in love and affection has left her thus. I know the poison of such a life. There was a time when she could have easily tossed me away, left me with nothing and no one, but she stood by me and refused to allow me to give up on myself.”

Babington gave a begrudging sigh as he wound his arms around her. She loved how he could completely cover her, surround her with his body, scent, warmth, love. She could bury herself in his embrace and never feel the need to come up for air. They stood together a while, neither moving or in a hurry to let go.

She knew it was time.

“I did lie to her today though,” she admitted quietly, her cheek still pressed to his heart.

She felt him go still.

“Oh?”

She lifted her head to look at him, nodding.

“Perhaps third times a charm?” She said, trying for joviality but sounding more lost than anything else.

Babington’s hand came to cup her face, his own battle raging behind his eyes, all there for her to see.

“Esther?”

She tried again to smile but a lump had lodged itself in her throat and she had to swallow.

“Don’t get attached,” She warned, tears beginning to fall from the corner of her eyes, her heart bleeding with love and fear for the child she carried.

“We... shan’t tell... anyone,” she said, struggling with each word, each breath, each heart beat.

He wanted to argue, to promise her that everything would be alright, to protect her from any more pain, but that wasn’t how it was between them. They would face whatever came and they would do it together. No pretense.

Esther’s attempts to hide her condition failed spectacularly when she rather suddenly and violently lost every bit of her dinner one evening while playing cards with the Parkers. She’d only made it as far as the vase in the corridor, looking up to find Mrs. Parker beside her, a cup of water in her hand.

“Say nothing,” she begged. “Please.”

Charlotte gave her a sad look, but nodded.

They did not speak of it. Esther had learned to prefer the silence. She had convinced herself she could bear the pain as she had before, by refusing to engage her heart.

But unbidden images of a little girl with red hair or a little boy with red-appled cheeks plagued her nighttime musings, insisting upon her affections.

This time, when the bleeding started, it did not stop. The doctor worked frantically, Babington going near out of his mind, pleading for help from any deity willing to listen, the hours seeping away.

Esther slept for three days, her ashen skin and sunken cheeks bringing even Lady Denham’s sharp tongue to a halt as she and the Parkers sat vigil with Babington.

“What’ll I do?” he whispered to Sidney, the delirium of grief and lack of sleep lowering all defenses. “I can’t lose her.”

When she awoke she knew that part of her would continue on in slumber. She would never be completely whole again.

She was tenderly cared for, slowly began to gain strength, but there was a new sense of caution in the way everyone looked at her and spoke with her.

The doctor warned that there could be no more babies, his eyes meaningfully on Lord Babington.

“The next one could take her life.”

After a month of convalescing, her strength nearly fully returned, she walked from her room into her adjoining husband’s, her intent clear as she slipped into his bed, reaching for him in the darkness.

“We cannot,” he said, desperation and fear coating each word, each touch.

“I have lost enough,” Esther said. “I will not give you up or this part of our marriage. I need you. I need this.”

That night they made love to each other, discovering new ways to express affection, ways that would keep Esther safe.

A week later Sidney brought Nathaniel by for Esther and Charlotte’s scheduled tea. Delighted as always to see her godson, Esther immediately cuddled him close, the six month old grabbing happily at her earrings and babbling away to her. Other than his parents, she was the person baby Nathaniel loved most in the world.

“Well Mr. Parker, not that you aren’t welcome, but I do wonder where your wife is today.”

Sidney smiled. “I admit to being a poor substitute for my wife. Charlotte sends her regrets, she is feeling unwell this morning, but did not want to ruin Nathaniel’s outing to see you.”

Esther bounced the baby on her hip. “Oh, I hope it’s nothing serious.”

Sidney merely tilted his head, noncommittal smile on his face, but it was his hesitancy to meet her eyes that gave him away.

She slowed her bouncing. “Sidney?”

His brow furrowed, his hands going to his hips. “She... should be well soon enough.”

“You may as well just tell me,” she said, keeping her tone even.

He gave her a pathetic look, as if he’d betrayed his king and country. “She wanted to be the one to tell you.”

Esther only waited, knowing the power her silence could wield, and, as expected, Sidney began shifting uncomfortably.

“She... that is we, are expecting another child.”

She buried the white hot ache that shot through her, fed it into that void deep inside her, and smiled widely at him.

“How wonderful!” She turned to the baby in her arms. “Our little Nathaniel, a big brother.”

Sidney hesitated, seeming to want to accept her well wishes but uncertain.

“You two don’t waste time do you?” She teased, watching the tips of his ears redden, but his shoulders relaxed.

“Yes,” came his sardonic reply. “This was... unexpected.”

“Not wholly unexpected I hope.”

She may have enjoyed watching the redness spread to his cheeks. “Indeed, Lady Babington, as you say, not wholly unexpected.”

“And how is Charlotte, truly?”

He thought for a moment. “Overwhelmed.”

Esther nodded. “I can imagine.”

“She has felt a great deal more tired and unwell with this one, probably due to caring for an infant at the same time.”

She heard something in his voice. “And yourself? How are you doing?”

He took a deep breath, shaking off whatever was playing around in his mind. “I am well. Perhaps feeling inadequate to the task of caring and providing for a rapidly growing family, but excited.”

Esther understood. She knew the feeling of anticipation crippled with uncertainty.

“Forgive me,” Sidney breathed. “We have no room for complaint.”

_We have a healthy child and another on the way._

The words were never spoken but they haunted the corners of Esther’s mind. She didn’t want them, but so much of life was made up of things she never wanted.

“Come, have some tea, and I’ll have Cook prepare some ginger biscuits for you to take home.”

She played with the baby until he fussed in earnest, ready for a nap, reaching for his Papa. Sidney took him into his arms, tucking him close and calming the baby with his deep, rumbling voice, before walking home with a basket for Charlotte on his other arm.

That night Esther sat reading in bed, Babington finishing his nightly ablutions.

She tried not to think of the coming months, of watching Charlotte blossom with life, knowing she would be twice blessed. Another boy? A little brother for Nathaniel to traipse around with. Or perhaps a little girl for Sidney to dote on.

“Something on your mind?”

The question pulled her from thoughts.

“Sorry?”

He stepped towards the bed. “You’ve been staring at the same page for some time now.”

She blinked then set her book aside.

“The Parkers are expecting again.”

Babington’s brow lowered in surprise. “Oh…”

He thought for a moment. “That seems... fast.”

Esther scoffed but said nothing. He sat on the bed, facing her, his thigh pressed against hers, solid.

“How do you feel?”

She turned from him, looking out into the darkness beyond the windows. Darkness within. Darkness without. She felt it welling up, growing, consuming. She wanted to scream, to run, to do something other than sit and watch it all happen around her.

“Let us go somewhere,” she said, ignoring his question. “You offered me the chance to travel once. Let us go on an adventure. London, Paris, Milan, the Americas for all I care, just take me away from here. Will you? Please?”

“I’ll make all the arrangements,” he promised.

A week later found Esther sitting in the Parkers’ parlor, sipping tea with a pale, wan-looking Charlotte and a slobbery, whiny Nathaniel on a rug on the floor.

“Still not feeling well?” She ventured, earning a distracted, placating smile from her friend.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Charlotte answered. “I’m sure it will pass soon enough.”

Since Esther’s most recent loss and Charlotte’s most recent gain, there had come a restraint between the two women that had not existed since Charlotte first came to Sanditon. It was not a cruel type of enmity, merely one of uncharted waters and a choppy sea. The openness that had brought Esther such comfort had faded.

And it hurt.

“I’ve come to tell you that Lord Babington and I are leaving in three days time.”

Charlotte’s head snapped up. “Leaving?”

Esther hesitated. “Yes. Right now we’ve planned a month in London then three in Italy.”

Charlotte’s already wilted posture visibly deflated.

“Charlotte?”

Her young friend pressed a hand to her mouth before setting her cup down. They sat silent as Charlotte took several deep breaths, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry,” she finally forced out, her voice struggling. She rubbed mindlessly at her belly. “I’m so sorry.”

“My dear, what is it?”

Charlotte’s face crumpled. “I’m going to miss you terribly, I _have_ missed you terribly. I know I must seem so ungrateful and insensitive, but with Nathaniel teething and up all hours of the night and the new baby making my br... body so sensitive, feeding has become a painful struggle, and I’m so exhausted all the time…”

She broke off suddenly, angrily shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. I swore to myself I wouldn’t subject you to my problems. I have no room to complain—”

“Charlotte,” Esther interrupted. “I’m not made of spun glass. I do not need your protection. You needn’t hide whatever it is you’re going through just because I cannot carry a child.”

Charlotte winced, her wet cheeks scrunching up as her eyes met Esther’s. “No, you are not a fragile woman, but you are a woman who has endured much loss. You don’t need my protection, but I wanted to offer friendship, understanding and consideration.”

“Is this why you’ve stayed away? As some attempt to shield me from what? Your motherhood?”

Charlotte gave an inelegant shrug. “I don’t even know anymore. I just sensed that after... after your most recent loss, there was something different, something I couldn't touch, something that prevented me from being the friend you needed. And now you’re leaving and I feel in some part responsible. Am I wrong? Have I been merely the most ridiculous of women?”

Esther knew she could lie, could hide the part of herself that made her feel too much, hope too much, and regret too much. Perhaps, if it were anyone else, barring her husband, perhaps she would have lied. But, as difficult as it was, she felt no impulse to retreat.

“You are not wrong,” she confessed, carefully, thoughtfully. “Well, not completely. There was something in me that I lost, a part of me that clung to the hope of one day gifting my husband with a child, but when the doctor made it clear we... that I should never again attempt to carry a child, I realized I could no longer hide behind the idea that I wanted a child just to please my husband. I had to force myself to confront the fact that I wanted a child for me. I wanted a child to love and dote on and be loved by in return. I do not blame you for finding your own happiness, for being blessed with your own children. I am not angry with you or upset with you. But I couldn’t...cannot face my own loss with you there. Do you understand?”

She knew by the look on Charlotte’s face that she did. She knew she was heard.

“But we are not leaving because of you. I need time and space to come to terms with all that I’ve lost and have to give up. Babington and I need time together.”

She reached for Charlotte’s hand. “Indeed, I am loathed to leave you, especially now, but I cannot continue on as I have.”

Nathaniel began to fuss in earnest from the floor, kicking angrily, his face growing red. Esther watched as Charlotte moved to scoop him up, and began unlacing the front of her dress. The two women had abandoned a great deal of social etiquette in their many months of friendship, maintaining the pretense around others but they had been through too much together to waste time on such niceties.

Esther noted the pained grimace on Charlotte’s face as the baby began feeding, her eyebrow going up in question.

“It’s rather painful at the moment, with him teething and my body adjusting to the new baby.”

Esther’s own breasts has grown quite painfully sensitive for those first few weeks before she miscarried. She could not imagine enduring a biting, gnawing child suckling.

“My dear—“

“It will pass,” Charlotte spoke, her bravado nearly convincing. “You were telling me your reasons for leaving.”

Esther took no offense at her clipped tone, exhaustion was a cruel companion.

“I need something to change, something I can control. It is a degrading and suffocating thing to feel trapped. I cannot find peace here, not yet.”

Charlotte nodded but kept her dark eyes on the babe in her arms, an odd look on her face. Esther felt a moment of unease.

“Charlotte... are you feeling trapped?”

She asked the question lightly, fearing offense, or perhaps fearing the answer.

Charlotte shook her head slowly, her gaze rising to meet Esther’s, her eyes glassy. She blinked, sending a cascade of tears down her cheeks.

“No,” she said, battling to keep her voice even. “I am worn out right now, but Sidney and Nathaniel and this new baby are my life. They mean everything to me. I sometimes cannot help but imagine what my life would be like if he had been forced to marry Mrs. Campion, if we had never found our way back to each other, and I am physically ill at the thought of it.”

She paused, pulling the baby closer, lost for a moment in her own personal hell, before dragging herself free.

“I understand why you’re leaving,” she said, speaking again to Esther. “And I understand why you and I must part ways for a time... but please know how greatly I will miss you.”

Esther was surprised to find herself crying. These were not heavy, all consuming tears, but a soft manifestation of her own tender feelings towards her friend. They could not travel these roads together at this time. Esther needed to be free to mourn, and Charlotte needed the liberty to find space to both struggle with and delight in motherhood.

“And I you,” Esther said. “And this little man as well, desperately.”

“May I write you?”

“Of course! Please do. Please keep me up to date on all of Nathaniel’s accomplishments and... how other things are...progressing.”

Charlotte again nodded, doing her best to wipe at her eyes without a cloth.

“I am sorry it has to be this way,” Esther admitted softly.

Charlotte gave a small, struggling smile. “Me too. Take the time you need. Just promise you will come home, that you won’t stay away forever.”

Esther reached out for her free hand. “I promise.”

They sat in companionable silence until Sidney stepped in, pausing by the door as he took in both women’s red eyes and down cast demeanors.

“Forgive me,” he said, beginning to turn and leave.

“Wait,” Esther called.

Charlotte shifted a now sleeping Nathaniel away from her breast, allowing Esther to take him as she righted the front of her gown.

Sidney, who had turned back at her command, stood waiting for further instruction.

“Mr. Parker, please take your wife upstairs and put her back to bed immediately. I would like some time alone with my godson before we leave.”

Sidney’s brow went up, but when his wife’s gaze met his and he saw no protest in her tired eyes, he bent and quickly took her hand in his, helping her rise.

Charlotte paused to kiss Esther on the cheek, then allowed her husband to take her upstairs where he helped her out of her gown, his concern growing.

“I’ll be alright,” she promised. “Just hold me tight for a moment before you return downstairs.”

Sidney laid her down, stretching alongside her, careful to keep his boots off the bed, then took her in his arms.

Charlotte’s defense crumbled as she was surrounded by his warmth, his touch, his smell. She sobbed quietly against his chest until her body gave out, and she slept.

_Dear Charlotte,_

_The delights of London are, quite simply, exhausting. The gossiping ton provide a great deal of amusement, but also a great deal of tediousness. The crush at last night’s route was_   
_nearly unbearable. I am happy to report the scandal surrounding your marriage, however, has all but been forgotten—thanks, I would imagine, due to your friend, Lady W._

_I do admit to enjoying myself immensely shopping and preparing for our trip abroad. It’s amazing the wonders_ _wrought by an entirely new wardrobe. The fashion in London is positively delightful. The prevalence of satin for evening wear feels deliciously naughty, and I encourage Babington to adopt the style daily._

_Give our love to that darling boy of yours and know that you and your family are missed. Indeed, I fear Babington misses his friend in your husband as much as I miss you, though he huffs and puffs dramatically when I tease him about it._

_I think of you often and hope you are well._

_Yours,  
Esther_

She sealed the letter, pausing to watch the hustle and bustle of the London streets, before passing it along to a footman. Two weeks in London had already allowed her some diversions, and she felt a renewed spirit.

_Dear Esther,_

_I’m afraid I must admit to not feeling an inkling of jealousy for your time in London. As you remember, the city does not hold many happy memories for me, but I am nearly green with envy over new dresses. Mary generously shared some of her gowns made to accommodate a delicate condition but they have to be hemmed as she is taller than I, and, as you well know, I lack any_ skill at the needle.

_Nathaniel grows by the day. He now proudly boasts two tiny teeth and is fast working on a third. Dr. Fuchs provided some clover oil which has calmed his irritability some and allows him to sleep better at night—which has been wonderful._

_Sidney is working himself to the bone, rebuilding his income and Sanditon. I worry for him. I spend most mornings assisting him and Tom with keeping the papers sorted and coming up with new_ _ideas to help draw visitors. I can see the toll it’s all taking on him. He’s worried our small home will not easily accommodate another child and I cannot describe to you the look on his face when he learned I had need of Mary’s hand-me-downs. But I grew up in a family of twelve. I am in no way deterred by wearing reconditioned clothing._

_He has business in London next week, though I believe the urgency lies more in his desire to see your husband—which he heartily denies. We have truly married wonderfully silly men._

_Yours,_   
_Charlotte_

Esther received Charlotte’s letter only a day before Sidney Parker arrived. He opted to stay with the Babingtons since the family home was being rented out in an effort to help Tom and his finances. She wasn’t there to welcome him, having committed to a luncheon with Mrs. Wentworth, but found him and her husband firmly squared away in the study, sipping their brandy and speaking easily. The atmosphere was relaxed and both men stood when she entered, grinning broadly.

“Sidney,” She greeted, even as her husband came to press a kiss to her cheek. “We’re delighted to see you.”

Sidney bowed, still smiling. “A pleasure as always Lady Babington.”

“Are you in town for long?”

He shook his head. “Only two days. I have some business to attend to then back to Sanditon.”

“Are we at home tonight, my dear?” Babington asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “I ensured our evening would be free and informed Cook we would be dining at home.”

“Excellent.”

Esther left the men to their talk, excusing herself to run an errand. When she returned, quite pleased with her accomplished task, a note had been left by her husband informing her they had gone but would be back well in time to dress for dinner.

Esther did enjoy running her own household. She loved the control, the freedom, the time and skill it required. Babington deferred all household decisions to her, trusting her implicitly. They often spoke of issues—dinners, concerns with the staff, redecorating—sharing ideas, but the final decision was left to her. She knew he respected her role.

She’d requested the Vermicelli soup removed with fish followed by wild duck then apricot tartlets. She wanted something nice for Sidney to tell Charlotte, to let her know her husband had been cared for.

When she entered the drawing room later that evening, the two men waited for her.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” Babington said, extending his hand out for her, allowing herself to be pulled to his side.

“Did you have a successful day?” she asked.

Sidney gave a small smile. “Somewhat. When I had to sell my assets to pay back Mrs. Campion’s investment, I lost a significant portion of my income and, as a result, have been unable to maintain certain contacts that would afford me some advantages as I attempt to re-establish myself in the import/export business. Babington was kind enough to use his influence to help me reconnect with some of those contacts.”

Esther knew Sidney had given up everything to be with Charlotte, knew it had cost him significantly financially to break with Mrs. Campion and keep his brother out of debtors prison, nearly landing himself there. She supposed she had not stopped to consider how exactly he would manage to recoup what he’d lost. Sanditon would not turn a profit for some time, if ever, which meant Sidney and Charlotte’s means were meager at best. And that Sidney would be stretching himself between trying to rebuild his brother’s town and rebuilding his own industry.

“Well, I hope your endeavors prove fruitful.” It was all she had to offer at the moment—empty platitudes—and she could tell by the dark smudges beneath his eyes and the tight press of his lips that his concern over the matter weighed heavily.

Sidney nodded his appreciation. “I as well... for everyone's sake.”

“And how is Charlotte and little Nathaniel?”

Sidney’s smile grew genuine as he blinked away the lingering uncertainty. “Nathaniel is a wonder. He can sit up all on his own and has started making these babbling noises like he’s trying to speak back when spoken to. Charlotte isn’t quite back on her feet, still tires easily and hasn’t been eating much. I left them both with Tom and Mary. I’m afraid I’ve turned into a right bore, I’m loathed to be away from them.”

“Of course,” smiled Esther, looking at Babington. “I quite understand.”

The trio went through to dinner and enjoyed the fair and the conversation thoroughly, opting out of the traditional separation of the sexes once the meal was over, they spent the rest of the evening playing cards and speaking of things past, present, and future.

“I wish there was more we could do to help the Parkers,” she said that night as she and Babington prepared for bed.

“I as well,” her husband agreed. “I will continue to support his business ventures and drum up whatever support I can for Sanditon, but it is difficult to see my friend worry and struggle to provide for his family.”

“Tom Parker is a fool, but is there nothing he can do to right his own wrongs?”

“Sadly, Tom has run up debts with every bank in London and dragged the Parker name through the mire. No established creditor with any business sense or trusted practices will loan to either him or Sidney. It was only through private investors that Sidney was able to scrape by and then only by the skin of his teeth.”

Esther knew each of the private investors, though that information had been kept from Sidney and made through a third party. The Babingtons, Crowe, Lady Worcester, and a few other smaller investors with whom Sidney had developed a strong relationship, had anonymously provided the funds to keep Tom and Sidney from immediate ruin.

“I fear Sidney suspects our involvement. I know he’s still investigating the anonymous donors.”

Esther slipped beneath the blanket, snuggling into the downy pillow. “Well he’ll have his hands quite full in the coming months. Spring is around the corner and ensuring Sanditon is prepared for visitors seems a daunting enough task, then there is the actual summer months and keeping visitors entertained and their purses opened, and, of course, the new baby arriving, and his other familial responsibilities. I would wager he’ll have no time or energy to pursue his inquiries.”

Babington nodded his agreement. “I hope you’re right. Sidney can be damned stubborn at times. He hasn’t spoken much about it but having to rely on the generosity of the Heywoods to help with the purchase of the home he and Charlotte share was a heavy blow.”

Esther frowned. “Am I misremembering that initially Charlotte and Sidney had planned to make their home in London for a time after they married, find a small place to rent in Cheapside or something and split their time between there and Sanditon?”

“I believe that was the plan, yes, but then—”

“The baby,” Esther interjected as realization dawned. “They decided on something more permanent after they learned the baby was on the way.”

She grew quiet after that, her mind wandering around in the memories of the last year, trying to make sense of the world.

“What has your brow so furrowed, my dear?” He asked, climbing into the bed.

She breathed for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “It’s incredible to me how complicated everything gets.”

“How so?”

“I spent years believing I knew exactly what I wanted, lying to myself in order to convince myself that I knew what love was and needed no one else.”

She looked at her husband, his open, expectant face seeming to hang on her every word.

“I had to lose everything to find you,” she said. “And finding you was the greatest gift life ever offered me. And we are happy and well-situated... are we not?”

Babington smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I would say we are.”

“Sidney and Charlotte had to lose everything to find each other as well, and I believe they are happy, but they are struggling just to survive. And yet they have what we cannot…”

Her husband frowned, a sadness he kept just outside of reach.

“I’m not...I don’t mean to wallow,” she said, not allowing him a chance to speak. “I am just thinking how odd it all is. Why can we not just be? The worst thing the Parkers did was fall in love. The worst thing I did was begin to hope for more.”

“Esther,” Babington began, “there are other ways to becoming a mother. I am happy with just you—”

She opened her mouth to interject, but he silenced her with his fingers to her lips.

“And I know you are happy with just me, but your heart longs for a child. That is not a selfish desire. As you say, I don’t believe either Sidney or Charlotte would give up even a second of their life together—as stressful and chaotic as it may be—for financial security. It is not wrong to desire such a bond. Your capacity to love has perhaps surprised you since you went so long without it. You have a mother’s heart and would be a blessing to any child. If you’re worried about the stigma surrounding adoption then we can extend our trip, return home with a baby, and it’s no ones business beyond knowing we have a child.”

Esther bit her lip, the idea rolling around in her head, looking for fertile ground to plant. Finally she said, “I would like to think on it. I’m not sure I’m there just yet.”

He smiled at her, a sweet, gentle smile, that always made her feel safe. “Fair enough.”

The next morning they all breakfast together, then spent the day going about their individual errands, and met back up that evening ready to attend dinner at the Thorpe’s.

“Parker!” Crowe called as they entered the Thropes’ drawing room, his liquid joviality contagious, despite its origins. “And the Babingtons! Well met. Come out of your country rustication to join us in our townie merriment?”

“I doubt we could keep up with your level of merriment Crowe,” laughed Babington, taking in the four or five other couples already circling about the room, “But we shall try our best.”

“And where is that buxom farmer’s daughter of yours Parker?” Crowe drawled lazily, earning a scowl from Sidney.

“Crowe,” he growled by way of warning. “My wife is at home in Sanditon with our child.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. Your little progeny,” he said, his disinterest palpable.

Esther rolled her eyes. “I’m going to greet our hosts.”

The two men made to follow when Sidney felt a hand on his arm. He looked up to find Crowe looking at him intently.

“It’s perhaps for the best she’s not here,” he said quietly but firmly, catching Sidney up short.

At his questioning look Crowe merely said, “Lord and Lady Westmoreland are in attendance tonight.”

A sense of dread hit Sidney low in his belly. He hated to run but didn’t think he had it in him to face the Earl and Countess of Westmoreland. He gave Crowe an appreciative nod for the warning then turned to where the Babingtons stood waiting. “Perhaps I should go. I’ve no wish for anyone’s night to be ruined.”

“Why Sidney, how could you be the cause of anyone’s ruin?”

The question came as a light hearted tease, but the tone dripped with accusations.

“Lady Westmoreland,” Sidney said formally, offering a small, stiff bow.

Esther could see the tightening of Sidney’s jaw and the tenseness in his shoulders, as a hunted animal may prepare to run or attack.

Before either could speak again, Babington stepped up next to Sidney, ensuring Esther was close at hand. “Lady Westmoreland, a pleasure to see you again. We apologize for missing the wedding. Lady Babington was unwell. I hope you received our note and gift.”

The lady’s cool, blue eyes gave little away as they shifted about. “Yes, Lord Babington, I thank you most sincerely. I hope you are feeling much improved Lady Babington.”

Esther smiled, a smile that spread wide but didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Much improved, Lady Westmoreland,” she parroted back.

“Eliza, please,” the blonde responded, her own delight saccharine and counterfeit. “And may I call you Esther?”

Esther gave an empty smile of acquiesce, wishing the woman to the devil even as she took her arm.

“Babington,” Lord Westmoreland greeted, coming behind his wife. “Crowe. Parker.”

The last was said with little warmth.

The four men made a small circle, the tension in the air an uncomfortable fog settling over them.

Esther and Eliza began promenading about the room, making their way toward Margaret Thorpe.

“Lady Babington,” The hostess greeted, a wide smile on her round face, though Esther could see a hint of panic in her eyes. “Delighted you could come.”

With appropriate niceties out of the way the three women talked of the weather, the excitement surrounding Lord Cavendish’s Burlington Arcade and whether construction would be completed soon, as well as a few on dits surrounding the ton. Some of the unease dispersed and a more relaxed feeling prevailed.

Esther enjoyed Mrs. Thorpe’s company immensely, and, for the most part, Lady Westmoreland’s. Esther had met Eliza only after her engagement to Sidney. They’d been in each other’s company a few times and other than a few odd moments of tension between the former Mrs. Campion and Sidney, Esther has little cause to dislike her. She was not privy to what had gone on between the ex-finances, nor had Charlotte ever spoken an ill word against the woman. And yet, there was something just below, like seeing dark water run beneath the thin layer of ice atop a frozen lake, that hinted at unpleasantness.

“Shall we go through to dinner?” Mrs. Thorpe asked, reaching for her husband’s arm.

As each woman returned to their respective husbands, Esther noticed an unease around Babington’s smile that had not been there earlier. Sidney’s face did little to hide his discomfort, a dark scowl taking permanent residence.

At her questioning look, Babington whispered, “Later.”

Esther was pleased to see Sidney sat far from Eliza and across from Westmoreland, making any conversation between them impossible. The meal progressed pleasantly enough and the food was deliciously crafted and lavishly presented.

When Mrs. Thorpe finally stood to lead the ladies from the room, Esther began to believe the night would end free of any drama. However, that feeling quickly abated when Mrs. Thorpe pulled her to the side.

“I’m terribly sorry Lady Babington,” The other woman said, keeping her voice low. “When you requested to bring Mr. Parker this evening, I had no ideas of what had happened between Lady Westmoreland and himself. I was in confinement that summer and failed to keep up with the latest gossip due to sick bed fever. It was my husband who made me aware but by then it was too late. I fear Lady Westmoreland was quite put out when I told them he was coming, even threatening to leave. The Earl was able to talk her round to staying, but I fear my ignorance may have ruined the evening.”

Esther was surprised to hear of Eliza‘s reaction, having seen very little of such upset, but realized such surprise was misplaced. Eliza was a countess now, she knew what was expected of her rank, and public hysterics would hardly qualify. Still, the evening had gone entirely too smoothly and Esther could feel the dread begin to spread.

“No, the evening has been delightful Margaret. You mustn’t worry. I believe the phrase ‘water under the bridge’ applies well enough.”

Mrs. Thorpe seemed to settle some after that, and Eliza headed directly for them.

“You two look deep in conversation,” she teased, though her tone hinted at suspicion. “And what is the topic of discussion?”

The women hesitated before Esther said, “What else other than husbands.”

Eliza laughed. “What else indeed.”

“And how are you finding married life to an Earl?” Mrs. Thorpe asked.

Eliza gave a wan smile. “I admit to enjoying marriage more the second time around. Mr. Campion was a fine husband, but his age made for many uneventful days as he preferred to be at home at his estate. Westmoreland and I are loving life in London and enjoy a great deal of society.”

It was unfortunate that the gentleman chose that moment to rejoin the ladies as Eliza continued, her voice unnecessarily loud and carrying. “Of course I owe Lady Babington for introducing me to Westmoreland and assisting me with my happy escape.”

The hairs went up on the back of Esther’s neck and she saw Sidney stiffen from his spot he’d taken up in the corner of the room.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Thorpe hedged, knowing Eliza intended her to pursue the topic but her unease clear.

“Yes. It seems we have each been fortunate in husbands, unlike some poor women. Like that sweet little Miss Heywood. I believe you're well acquainted with her, Lady Babington.”

Esther saw Sidney take a step towards them, but stopped himself even as her husband and Crowe carefully moved closer to him.

Mrs. Thorpe frowned. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that lady.”

The pleasure in Eliza's eyes brightened. “She’s not spent much time in London, a rather provincial country girl you see from a large family and very little money. But a sweet girl with a pretty enough face. Such a sad story. I believe her family was hoping for a match that might elevate her and bring a bit of fortune to the family, but sadly she was drawn in by circumstances her naive upbringing had not prepared her for and has made a most imprudent match with a penniless pretender.”

Mrs. Thorpe’s brow went up, properly scandalized for the poor woman of whom Eliza spoke. Esther’s brow, however, lowered as her anger began to bubble to the surface. She could see Sidney practically shaking with the same emotion.

“How awful,” Mrs. Thorpe said, turning to Esther. “And you’re familiar with the woman?”

“Quite,” Esther said, her voice lacking any warmth. “Though I fear Lady Westmoreland’s account is a rather skewed perspective.”

“Oh?” Eliza said, feigning ignorance. “How so? As I have heard it, her husband is ruined, with nothing more than mounting debts to his name. Of course, he got a child on her right away, some have even speculated that was the reason for the marriage all along, that her family had no choice but to allow the union or their daughter would be ruined. He’s a rake, you see. Even now he leaves the poor woman buried in the country as he comes to partake in the delights of London—”

“Enough, Eliza,” Sidney snapped, his use of her first name and the coldness of his tone silencing all other conversation. “We had an agreement.”

“Here now,” Lord Westmoreland interjected, moving to stand between Sidney and his wife. “Mind yourself, Parker.”

Mrs. Thorpe’s face blanched as realization dawned. She looked frantically to her own husband.

Mr. Thorpe hesitated, unsure how to intercede, but it was Esther who spoke.

“I am sorry, my dear Lady Westmoreland, that sadly you have been fed such false information. I do know Mrs. Parker. I count her as one if my dearest friends, and I’m happy to report that both she and her husband have one of the happiest and most loving of marriages. And I can assure you that both Mrs. and Mr. Parker are well satisfied with each other.”

Her implications were clear, and Esther met the flushed face of her hostess and Eliza with a cool, confident stare.

“Music?” Mr. Thorpe said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Perhaps you’ll bless us with your talent in the pianoforte, my dear?”

As Mrs. Thorpe quickly moved to the piano, Sidney excused himself, his anger palpable. There was an awkward moment as everyone struggled to know how to act. When Lord Babington made to follow Sidney out, Esther stopped him.

“I’ll go.”

Eliza watched on in silence.

Esther found Sidney in the hall, his hand on his hips, starting unseeing at a portrait hanging on the wall.

“Sidney,” she ventured softly, just loud enough to gain his attention.

He said nothing for a moment, the strains of Thomas Atwood’s “Allegro” drifting around them. He finally let out a puff of air, his head dropping to his chest.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “I shouldn’t have come tonight. I was here as your guest, and when I learned she was here I should have just left. I did not mean to ruin your night or risk bringing censor down on either of you.”

Esther waved off his apology. “What did you mean when you said you ‘had an agreement’?”

He pressed his lips together, his brow furrowed. “Eliza agreed to release me from our engagement, contingent on certain...requirements.”

Esther expected no less. An engagement was tantamount to marriage. For Sidney to walk away risked him being sued for breach of contract and possible prison time, for Eliza to walk away risked her reputation and any future relationships. It was no small thing to absolve such a connection, particularly when they had a previous failed engagement.

“I, of course, paid back every bit of her money invested in Sanditon, plus ten percent, and Eliza was free to spread about whatever story she felt properly freed her from the engagement with as little impact to her reputation as possible, placing all responsibility into myself. However, while she was free to say whatever she wished about me, Charlotte’s name was never to be dragged into it by her. That was my only stipulation, and I, in turn, would never reveal her part in our engagement.”

Esther frowned. “Her part?”

“When I first approached Eliza as a possible investor, I told her of Lady Denham’s time limit, and marriage was the only offer she would accept in return to save Tom and the family. Such machiavellian tactics coming to light risk undermining the narrative she preferred to put about that I was a money grabbing fortune hunter manipulating her and a rake meant to drink and whore away her fortune.”

“So you sold everything you owned, including your business to pay the funds,” Esther said.

Sidney nodded. “And it seems Eliza was taking our agreement to heart. I’ve run into several roadblocks in my attempts to establish myself, and tonight Westmoreland hinted heavily that they are the cause of such impediments.”

“Good heavens,” Esther said. “How long will you be punished?”

Sidney shrugged. “I admit I was upset, but I had agreed to the consequences, and I would agree again if it ensured Charlotte and I were together. But when she began disparaging Charlotte...I could not endure it.”

“Of course not,”’ Esther agreed. “Will you stay?”

Sidney shook his head. “No, I’ll take my leave.”

“Running away?”

The question surprised them both.

Eliza stood, an eyebrow raised haughtily, watching them.

Sidney said nothing, only turned to leave.

“Do you know why I agreed to your terms?” Eliza said, stopping Sidney in his tracks, waiting for him to face her, his broad back a veritable dam as all held perfectly still.

Esther knew she should leave them, knew that was the respectable thing, but respectability be damned. She wasn’t going to walk away now.

It seemed neither was Sidney. “I assumed it was because, once again, you’d found a better offer.”

His words were sharp, the meaning cutting.

Eliza ignored the implications of his words.

“It was because I believed you would come to regret your choice. I knew the power of patience. I waited a decade for the chance to be with you again. I am very good at waiting. I knew if I just waited long enough I would see the evidence of your self-ruination. How could you come to me after months of careful indifference and, with passion and love in your eyes, ask to be released? You would not look at me with such eyes. I knew in that moment that you would never care for me as you once did, and I wanted to see you punished. You were so convinced that little country mouse would make you happy, but I knew otherwise. I knew your pride could not handle being brought so low.”

At Sidney’s dark look Eliza straightened, challenging him, her words coming fast as she gained confidence.

“I agreed not to speak of Miss. Heywood because I believed the ton would naturally ensure her name was dragged through the mud along with yours. Granted, there were some who began to whisper about her, but I underestimated the relationship she had with Lady Worcester. I did not anticipate such protection. I suppose your little thing deserves some credit for making powerful friends.”

To Esther’s surprise she saw Sidney‘s shoulders fall, his stoney demeanor falter. Eliza’s face grew triumphant.

“Even now I see you grow weary with it all. You face a lifetime of poverty, shackled to brats and babes and your simple, provincial wife—”

“You mistake me,” Sidney interrupted. “I do grow weary Eliza. I grow weary of the vitriol that pours from you. But you are right. The man you knew, the man who thought he loved you all those years ago, allowed his pride to rule him. When you broke our engagement and married Campion, I believed it was my heart you had injured, but, in truth, it was my pride. It was my hurt pride that sent me to gaming halls, to drinking hells, to near ruin, and finally to the other side of the world. Not love.”

Eliza’s eyes hardened even as Sidney stepped closer to her.

“I know it wasn’t love because, even now, when I am all but a ruined man, I have no need of pride. I would live a thousand lifetimes struggling for every morsel of food on my table, bearing every shame you or your husband could reign down upon me, if it meant I could love and be loved by Charlotte. And those ‘brats and babes,’ as you call them, are the very heart beat within my chest, and I would endure any pain and loss to ensure their protection.”

He stood directly in front of her now, a hair’s breath away, forcing her to look up at him. His voice growing lower, softer.

“Could you say the same Eliza? Could you believe yourself ready and willing to follow me into a life of struggle and hard work? Of mornings gathering eggs and baking bread to ensure there is food on the table, of nights spent calming and rocking a crying babe, of days spent mending hand-me-down dresses? Because that is the life my wife has committed to living, with no promise of relief. I wish…” He stopped, his throat working, swallowing down the emotion that threatened to overwhelm and disarm him. He forced his throat clear, though his eyes betrayed him.

“I wish more than anything that wasn’t the kind of life I provided her, but that is the love we share. It is a love that allows even the greatest of sacrifices to feel bearable, that takes the hardest moments and transforms them into blessings. I would lay down my life for her, and I would live everyday for her. And I believe we both know that you and I never shared such a love.”

Esther could see Eliza’s eyes turn glassy, her cheeks red.

“No,” she finally whispered. “No we didn’t.”

There was a finality to the moment as Eliza turned and walked away. There was a brokenness that spoke of freedom, that promised some relief, and Esther felt a strong, unexpected desire to weep.

“Come, Sidney,” She said gently. “You will not run from her. We shan’t stay long, but we will go back in, and you will allow your friends to circle about you. Enough is enough.”

He followed her without comment.

True to her word, they stayed only an hour longer, but Sidney was surrounded by those who saw and cared for him. The Westmorelands stayed in their corner, Eliza refusing to even look their way, and the rest of the evening progressed smoothly before they made their excuses.

The ride home began somber, Sidney unable to hide his exhaustion and Esther unwilling to pretend she didn’t understand his withdrawl. However, it wasn’t in Babington’s nature to brood—having become quite adept at pulling his wife and best friend from their morose moods—and he soon broke the tension.

“Well, that was an awkward evening. Was I the only one to notice Westmoreland’s cravat poking out through the top button of his waist coat? What a peacock! I was quite distracted by it all night. Did I miss anything important?”

Esther looked to her husband, eyes wide, before the mirth bubbled up, escaping as a giggle. The sound was infectious and soon all three were smirking and fighting laughter.

Just as they arrived home, the door to the carriage was pulled open by the Babingtons’ butler.

“Milord, milady, sir,” he greeted. “My apologies but a rider has just arrived with an urgent missives for Mr. Parker.”

He handed the folded note to Sidney, holding his lantern high to provide light to read.

Sidney perused the letter. “It’s from Mary…” he said, continuing to read. His face grew pale and he balled the note in his fist. “I must get back to Sanditon right away. Charlotte has fallen ill and collapsed.”

Sidney jumped from the carriage, looking about, seemingly lost, unsure how to proceed.

“Of course,” Babington said. “Prepare my horse for Mr. Parker.”

Esther felt her stomach drop. Not another loss. Not another unrealized child, please. “Sidney, be safe. We’re praying for all to be well.”

Sidney nodded his thanks then ran into the house to change from his evening wear and grab his bag. He was delayed only minutes before he was riding off into the night.


	2. Missing bits and pieces from the pages that you took

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How rarely does anything go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you so much for the amazing comment on part one. I am truly floored. I was not expecting such a response. ❤️❤️❤️ I wanted to get part two up yesterday but you know...life... so I apologize I’m a little late. I also was going to post this only in two parts but, again, the story grew into more as I was writing so now I’m aiming for four chapters. Hope that’s ok!
> 
> This chapter is heavy, but it didn’t feel right to find an easy way out of the difficult things our pair of lovers are going through. But I promise part three will have more levity and joy. This is a shorter chapter than the first but the stopping point felt natural, so I’m just following where the story leads! Hope you enjoy!

Esther didn’t sleep that night. It was too much—too much worry, too much heartache, too much hopelessness.

“My dear, come to bed,” Babington said, finding her by the fireplace, staring into the dying embers.

She only shook her head.

He sat beside her, his shoulder pressed to hers as he watched her toes disappear beneath the hem of her night dress. They both sat with their knees to their chest, the pre-dawn hours stretching before them.

“I’ve never been on this side,” she finally whispered.

He frowned at her.

“The waiting-to-find-out-side ,” She clarified. “I’ve always been the one in the bed. It’s hard to know what to do either way I suppose.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I want to believe it’ll all be alright,” he said, bringing his head down to rest against hers.

“Then we shall believe it.”

“Would you like to return to Sanditon tomorrow, before we continue our trip further?”

Esther nodded.

“I love you,” he said simply.

“And I you,” she answered.

Esther dozed fitfully in the carriage as they made their way to Sanditon the next day. She felt exhausted and anxious, fearing what she would find. Would her friend be fighting the same devastation that lived within Esther? Or worse, would Sidney and Nathaniel be facing the biggest loss?

Babington grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze before reaching out and smoothing the worry from her brow.

“Shall we go home first or would you like to stop and find Charlotte and Sidney first?”

“Charlotte and Sidney first, I think.”

He nodded, tapped the roof of the carriage and waited to give instructions to the driver. When they again resumed their journey, Esther kept her eyes to the horizon, waiting for that first glimpse of the shimmering water. There was something that came alive within her when she took that first look at the sea. It hadn’t always been that way, but even when she was a child, she had loved the thrill of that first glimpse. The life she’d been buried under had taken some of those joys from her, but now, since her marriage, she could feel them seeping back into her, revitalizing and revivifying.

The Tom Parkers had moved from Trafalger House, selling the property to help recover some of the loss of the fire, and moved back into the old Parker Senior estate that had been left abandoned just outside of Sanditon. She had not visited the estate since before the Parker parents had passed. She had never had much use for any of the Parkers. Diana was near the same age, but Esther had little patience for the woman. Sidney truly was the black sheep.

As they approach the Parker home, the smell of sea, sand, and salt permeated the air. The bright sun gave little warmth, but the light was enough to inspire the idea and Esther was unsure how to reconcile the happiness of the weather with the dread growing within her.

The Parker children were playing on the lawn when they arrived, Mrs. Mary Parker sitting in the sunshine watching, the youngest toddling around her as best he could in a coat and scarf.

“Lord and Lady Babington,” Mary greeted, rising to her feet, her face welcoming despite the hint of confusion coloring her cheeks.

“Mrs. Parker,” Babington said, making their salutations. “We apologize for the surprise visit, but I fear my wife’s concern for Mrs. Sidney Parker’s well being was too much to allow us to stay away.”

Mary’s confusion fled, replaced by a sedate, sad smile.

“Of course, you are more than welcome,” She said. “ The doctor promised to return today, and Tom has just left to fetch him. I’m afraid things are not particularly well.”

“Please, tell us what happened,” Esther said.

The four children had now gathered around their mother’s skirts, shyly looking up at the stylish couple.

Mary absentmindedly stroked the hair from Jenny’s eyes as she answered. “Yesterday Charlotte began to complain of a headache and sore throat. She had been up and down most of the night with the baby—he did not like the nursery and slept poorly—so I told her to rest, and I would look after Nathaniel. She slept for hours, well passed luncheon, and I began to worry. When I awoke her, she was somewhat befuddled and listless, but seemed to settle soon enough. Her head still ached, but she came down and fed Nathaniel. She was quiet and had begun to cough.”

The smallest child began tugging on her dress in earnest, and Mary bent to pick him up, settling him on her hip.

“By dinner time I could see Charlotte was fading again, her cough worsening, and ordered a beef stew be served to help, but the poor girl could only get a few bites down before…”

Esther nodded her understanding, freeing Mary of the task of being more specific in describing the digestional upset of expectant mothers, especially in mixed company.

Mary gave her a grateful look. “When Charlotte stood to leave the table she struggled to right herself and collapsed. We were unable to revive her.”

Esther gasped.

“The child?”

Mary shook her head. “So far Dr. Fuchs believes the child lives. There has been no sign in that regard, as of yet. Dr. Fuchs believes she is suffering from anaemia, resulting from heavy sickness brought on by carrying a child and compounded by a cold. He has prescribed minced liver boiled in beef broth for her to eat and a salve of eucalyptus, mint, and lavender applied to her chest to fight the cough, and several treatments of steam. He made it very clear it is paramount we get her strength back up so she can overcome the cold. We’ve done our best to keep her comfortable, to try and get her to eat, but there is little more we can do than wait.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Esther asked, feeling helpless and cumbersome.

Mary considered.

“I was just going to check on Sidney and Nathaniel. The poor man hasn’t left her side and was up all night sitting with her. It’s nearly time for another steam treatment, if you’d like to go up with me. Perhaps you could persuade him to take a break.”

Esther nodded and waited as Mary handed her boy off to the oldest girl, then followed her into the house.

Babington stayed below, appointing himself nanny and nurse, deciding a game of Touch would suit everyone just fine and began chasing them about the lawn trying to tag the giggling children while pretending to be unable to run any faster than a lumbering turtle.

The two women left the sound of merriment as they made their way into the home. It was not nearly the size or grandeur of Trafalger House, but it was just as Esther remembered it, a lovely home with plenty of space. Other than wanting to be in town, Esther hadn’t understood Tom Parker’s willingness to abandon the place. It lacked some of the modern conveniences of a newer home, but it possessed a delightful charm that could not be easily manufactured.

She followed Mary silently up the staircase to Charlotte’s room. When her gentle knock on the door went unanswered, Mary quietly turned the knob to peek in. She gave Esther a sad smile before pushing the door open enough to allow both women to see into the room. The grayness off the day kept a natural darkness around the bed, as it was far from the window, but a warm glow from the fireplace lent the room a welcoming feeling.

Sidney sat asleep in a chair pulled close to the bed in his shirtsleeves, his coat, vest, cravat all long forgotten. He slept with his head tilted back against the chair, his brow furrowed as if he were preparing for battle, ready to jump at a moment's notice. In his arms lay a sleeping Nathaniel, his cheeks pink, one squashed where it pressed against Sidney’s chest. Charlotte lay in the bed, half reclines against several pillows, her hair a mess of curls, making her look younger than a woman with a husband, children, and a mountain of worries.

At first, Esther believed her to be asleep, but a bit of light caught the sliver of shine in her eyes as Charlotte looked at them with a heavily lidded gaze. She just blinked tiredly at them and raised a finger to her lips in the will-recognized sign of quiet before turning back to look at her sleeping husband and child, but Esther could see the effort such a small gesture cost her.

Mary gave a nod of understanding but continued into the room, Esther close behind. It was clear Charlotte had not at first recognized the presence of her friend because as soon as Esther had stepped more fully into the room, Charlotte’s brow went up, a weak, drunken smile spreading her lips, and she reached for Esther’s hand.

Despite the circumstances, Esther couldn’t help the answering smile that came to her own lips as she stepped to the bed, taking Charlotte’s proffered hand. As soon as her palm slid against her friend’s, however, Esther knew there was a problem. She gave Charlotte’s hand a squeeze before letting go, quickly pulling off her gloves and pressing her hand against Charlotte’s brow then cheeks.

Mary, immediately recognizing Esther’s movements stepped closer, a tension now heavy in the air. At her questioning look, Esther whispered, “She’s burning up.”

Mary replaced Esther’s hand with her own, dread filling her as she felt the heat radiating from her young sister-in-law’s skin.

“What is it?” Sidney’s voice asked suddenly, surprising them both.

“A fever,” Mary answered, turning to him.. “We should remove Nathaniel.”

Esther could see the conflict on his face and she quickly moved around the bed as he stood and reached for the baby. He gave her a grateful look as he passed the child off to her. Nathaniel fussed some, even as he rubbed his face against Esther’s chest, unhappy to have been disturbed and still half asleep.

“My baby boy,” wheezed Charlotte, seeming to try and get up.

Mary and Sidney moved quickly to her side, to prevent her attempts, and Esther made a speedy exit, doing her best to keep calm and rock the baby back to sleep. As his head fell heavily against her shoulder, Esther tiptoed back down the stairs. She could still hear the children and her husband fully engaged in the game and pressed her hands against Nathaniel’s ear to try and muffle the sound.

She stood at the window, bouncing dramatically, swaying to and fro in an effort to catch her husband’s eye. As if he could sense her, he looked up, nodding an acknowledgement at her small wave. He called a temporary halt to their game, declaring the children too fast and clever for him to catch, and excused himself.

When he entered the home, Esther could smell the cold lingering on his coat even as his eyes shined with glee from the play and exercise.

She looked pointedly down at the child in her arms, ensuring Babington saw that the he slept.

“What’s happened?” he whispered.

“Charlotte’s developed a fever.”

“Good heavens,” came his reply.

“I need you to take the baby. I’ll see if I can’t find a maid to assist with the rest of the children.”

“Jenny said it was their nurse’s half day, so she should be home soon,” Babington explained as he removed his coat before reaching for the baby. “I’m sure I can ensure everyone’s safety until then or until Tom arrives home—whichever happens first.”

Esther watched as he easily shushed Nathaniel back to sleep, his arms naturally holding the baby close, and felt the now familiar ache in her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

_I’m sorry I can’t give you this._

His brow lowered in question.

“I’m sorry this is how you’re having to spend the day,” she answered. “Playing nursemaid.”

“Not at all, my dear,” he smiled. “Our friends need help. And besides, what better way to spend the day than playing with children?”

She knew he was attempting to put her mind at ease, and she had to force herself to not listen to that tiny voice that sometimes sought to fill the silence in her, the voice that offered no solace or strength, the voice that said she would never be good enough.

She nodded. “I must get back upstairs.”

“Are you alright?” he stopped her, his eyes on her, always seeing more than she wished.

“Just worried for Charlotte.”

He looked at her a moment, poised to say more, but she silently pleaded for him to leave it.

He nodded.

Esther heard a door open and saw a maid enter the hall.

“Go,” Babington said, and Esther followed, stopping to instruct the maid.

When she returned to the sick room she found an agitated Sidney and anxious Mary.

“Where is Tom and the doctor?” He growled walking to the window, looking about, then returning to reapply cool water to the cloth in his hand, before running it down Charlotte’s arm and face. Mary followed suit on the other side of the bed.

They had pulled the heavy blankets from the bed, leaving Charlotte shivering in her nightdress. Ester could see the agony on Sidney’s face as he watched his wife suffer, felt her own stomach roll, fighting the instinct to again make her warm and cozy, but they had to get her temperature down.

“Nathaniel?” Charlotte breathed, her voice raspy and weak.

“Still sleeping happily in his godfather’s arms,” she said brightly, unable to do more than offer false platitudes.

Charlotte nodded but could say no more as she began coughing, a deep, rattling cough that caused her body to curl inward.

She coughed and coughed and coughed and Sidney reached for her, carefully pulling her to sit up and lean against him, both cupping the small bump hidden beneath her nightdress.

“She needs more steam,” He said, his voice clipped.

“But that will raise her temperature,” Mary pointed out.

“Dammit, where is the doctor?” he barked with frustration.

Esther moved to the bedside, pouring Charlotte a glass of water, waiting as the other woman continued to struggle to catch her breath. When she finally managed to even her breathing out, she collapsed against Sidney, and Esther held the cup to her lips.

“You must drink, darling,” she insisted, tilting the cup to wet Charlotte’s lips. Finally, she took a long pull of the cool liquid, but as she went for more a cough racked her body, sending droplets of water everywhere.

Charlotte whimpered her apology.

“Right,” snapped Sidney. “We’ll not wait any longer. Prepare the water. We’ll just have to try and get her fever down after we’ve dealt with the cough.”

Mary nodded and moved to the hall, calling for the maid to bring boiling water. Esther could understand how Sidney had managed to build himself an empire. He was decisive and sharp and rather intimidating.

Charlotte gripped his shirt, turning in his arms to look up at him, her cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and unfocused, trying to get his attention.

The sternness immediately left his face as he looked down at her, replaced with tender affection. “My love?”

“Who will feed the chickens?”

Ester couldn’t stop her brow from lowering, the question so unexpected as to cause alarm.

Sidney too seemed surprise, a perplexed look taking shape as he gazed down at his sick wife. “What?”

“I only put out enough grain for two days, as we were to return home today.”

A flash of pain flared in his dark eyes for the briefest of moments before he hugged Charlotte closer. “It will be taken care of. Don’t worry about anything other than getting well. Do you hear?”

Charlotte sighed. “What of Nathaniel?”

“I will care for him,” Esther spoke suddenly without thought. “That is, Babington and I will. And then, when you are feeling better, I will pass him back a happy and spoiled baby.”

Esther caught Charlotte’s eye—a silent petition of approval offered and accepted with Charlotte’s tired, grateful smile.

The bowl of steaming water soon arrived, but Charlotte was unable to stand or sit up on her own so Sidney situated her and the tray in his lap, as Mary held the cloth over Charlotte’s head. She could sense his discomfort, the heat of the water causing him beads of sweat to form along his brow, his face strained as he balanced Charlotte’s weight leaning heavily into him against the bowl of hot water. Esther stood nearby, reaching out to steady the tray when a fit of coughing would send it teetering.

She ignored Sidney’s grateful look. She couldn’t stomach it. She didn’t know how to respond to it. She felt awkward and unprepared. She had dealt with loss and hardship in her life, but she had never really allowed herself to care about others. She had no experience being the voice of comfort, and she felt wholly inadequate to the task. This was her husband’s area of expertise. He was the one with all the right words.

Dr. Fuchs and Tom arrived shortly after Charlotte finished her stream. The small man bound into the room with all the tenderness of a bull, but Esther admitted she felt a bit of reassurance by just his presence. He immediately recognized Charlotte’s flushed cheeks and dry lips.

“A fever, ya?”

Sidney nodded, slipping from behind his wife and helping her settle back against the pillows.

Then Dr. Fuchs pressed his ear to Charlotte’s chest and listened to her breathe.

“Winter fever,” he whispered once he stood.

 _Pneumonia_.

Esther felt her stomach drop. She watched as Sidney’s face paled.

“Will she…” he faltered.

“She must be alright,” he finally said, his voice stern.

“We will do our best Herr Parker,” promised Dr. Fuchs, but Esther heard it as plainly as Sidney, he offered no absolutes.

“And the child?” Sidney asked quietly, almost soundlessly.

The doctor sighed. He looked Sidney in the eyes and spoke softly, kindly—Esther knew that tone of voice. “I will not give you false hope. I can only commit my services and ensure her the very best care. But with such an illness you must prepare yourself for the possibility of losing one or both.”

Charlotte sat up suddenly, a frantic look on her face, which Sidney apparently recognized because he ran to her side, grabbing a bowl before she rolled as best she could to the side of the bed and was sick.

“Extracts of Aconitum for the fever and Milk Weed tea boiled from the root for the cough. A gift from a friend in America,” Dr. Fuchs explained loudly in his heavy accent as he dug around in his bag. “The natives use it as treatment for pleurisy, and he swears he has never seen anything more effective. We shall see how she responds before bleeding her.”

Esther couldn’t stay. She stood helpless as she watched everyone move about her and run to Charlotte. It was too difficult to watch. This was too raw, too human. She could close her eyes and find herself right back in the bed, the smell of blood in the air.

As Sidney did his best to help get Charlotte cleaned up and Dr. Fuchs began giving instructions, producing two small vials and giving his directions to Mary, Esther slipped out.

She found Babington in the kitchen with Tom and the other children. The children’s nurse had returned and it was apparently time for their midday meal. She could hear Tom’s overly enthusiastic voice and for once finding she did not begrudge him for it. She knew it was his attempt to keep the children from lingering over their concerns for their dear aunt Charlotte and uncle Sidney.

Babington caught her eye, Nathaniel perched on his hip, more awake now and happily gnawing on a bit of bread held tightly in his chubby, little fist. When the baby saw her, he kicked his legs happily, holding the soggy piece out to her.

Tom creased his animal noises, instructing the children to continue their meal and both men stepped near to her, asking in lowered voices after Charlotte.

When she told them the doctor’s diagnosis they did their best to contain their reactions.

“Good Heavens,” breathed Tom. “Poor Charlotte. And poor Sidney.”

“I did volunteer us to take Nathaniel with us, to keep him safe from illness,” she told Babington, but turned to include Tom. “And if you and Mary need a place to stay, we would be happy to host you.”

“Very kind of you Lady Babington, very kind. I thank you. But I suspect Mary will not wish to leave Charlotte or Sidney alone. And I believe Arthur and Diana can help with the children if it comes to relocating them temporarily,” answer Tom.

Babington nodded. “With your permission Tom I shall ask the nurse to prepare a bag for Nathaniel.”

“Of course,” Tom replied.

  
“Oh, and we must find someone to care for the chickens,” Esther said, stopping them both.

“The chickens?” Tom asked, his voice laced with confusion.

It did not take long for Lord Babington to arrange all that needed to be done. As a peer of the realm he’d learned long ago that with privilege came responsibility. It was something Esther loved about him. He did not wait around for someone to come along and fix things. He had collected Nathaniel’s things, spoken with Dr. Fuchs—quietly ensuring the doctor knew no expense was to be spared in Charlotte’s treatment—requested and paid a local farmer to send his eldest son to care for Charlotte’s chickens daily, and sent a rider to Willingdon to fetch Charlotte’s mother.

Esther had not returned to the sick room before they left, but Sidney had stepped out to kiss his son goodbye. He and Babington shared a look that Esther wished she did not understand, but the listless hollowness that plagued his dark eyes was all too recognizable.

She felt an impulse to speak, to say something of comfort, to try for hope.

She grabbed his arm. “Remember, she is stronger and more stubborn than she appears,” she said, parroting back his words all those many months ago.

She saw the recognition, then the appreciation, then finally the resolve settle in his eyes. She had said what needed to be said.

He stood straighter, held Nathaniel close, whispering his love and promises, before handing him back to Esther.

“If he fusses at bedtime then sing to him. He almost always settles. He still feeds at night…” he looked around vaguely, as if suddenly realizing he had no idea what to do.

“Yes, Mary provided a bottle that should suffice, along with the recipe for milk,” Esther assured him.

“Right,” Sidney rubbed at his brow, trying to think, to recall the small details that made life work. “He usually only feeds right at bed and has recently started going about six hours or so before waking to feed again. He’s gotten quite good at going right back to sleep and sleeping another two to three hours. But you may need to check on him because he will find a way to work himself out of his blanket. I usually get up at least once a night to cover him back up.”

Esther merely nodded, taking in as much information as she could, suddenly feeling very nervous and unprepared.

“He’s eating foods now, nothing too complicated—“

“Yes, Mary gave me a list of foods as well,” she said, happy to know something.

“Good, good.” He reached out and touched Nathaniel’s little foot, his large hand lingering for a moment. “I warn you, he’s beginning to scoot quite well and can slip out of view rather suddenly…”

“I’ll keep a close eye on him. He’ll be well cared for,” she promised with a confidence she didn’t quite feel, hoping she hid her own uncertainties.

“I know,” Sidney answered without hesitation. “Just make sure he knows his Mama and Papa love him, and we will _both_ be back with him soon.”

It was what he needed to say.

Esther held tightly to Nathaniel as they rode home in the carriage. The realization that she would be acting mother to the child finally sinking in. She felt flooded with a million questions, doubts, and feelings at once.

“Should we stop at the Parkers’ home for a cradle?” she asked, beginning to sort through the many thoughts and concerns, all that seemed to center around the baby’s comfort and happiness.

“We can, if you like,” her husband answered, but she saw him hesitate. She raised one eyebrow at him, the perfect arch always able to command attention, and he continued, “We do have a cradle though. I admit when the second child... well when it seemed as if we would need…” He gave a small, resigned huff. “I purchased a cradle but had it hidden in the attic.”

“Oh,” was all Esther could manage before simply nodding. “Good. We’ll have it brought down immediately and cleaned.”

It was matter of fact. It was easier that way.

Both took turns entertaining and distracting the child until they finally arrived home. After their marriage, Tom Parker had wanted them to procure an apartment in town and Lady Denham had rather insisted they live at Denham Park, but they had resisted both invitations and settled on a small estate just south of Sanditon. Babington, of course, already has a large, thriving country estate and a home in London, but Esther had feared leaving her Aunt alone—despite the woman’s claims to live forever—and so they had agreed to remain nearby without relenting their personal freedom.

Esther continued to hold baby Nathaniel even after they’d returned home, until the child began to squirm in earnest, craving his own independence. The staff had been informed of their early, temporary return so warm fires awaited them, and Cook had begun preparing an evening meal. The Babingtons spent the late afternoon on the floor of the library, a blanket spread out, playing and delighting in Nathaniel’s antics. He did indeed sport tiny, new teeth, babble back when spoken to, sit up, roll around, and pull himself up on all fours. Esther laughed as she watched him rock to and fro, attempting movement until giving up and flopping back down on his belly with an angry bark. He did manage, however, to scoot rather impressively, and, surprisingly, covered the floor of the library with rather astounding speed.

“Just like his father,” Babington laughed after Esther had scurried after the boy. “Loves to go fast.”

When Nathaniel grew fractious and fussy, rubbing his eyes in earnest, Esther had replicated all that she had seen and helped Charlotte do during their many afternoons together. She replaced Nathaniel’s cloth with a clean, dry one, wrapped him up, then walked the floor, singing softly until he gave up his mewling and slipped off into slumber.

She gave Babington a triumphant smile and was met with his own contented one.

“I shall work some while he sleeps,” he whispered.

She nodded, swaying back and forth in an age old dance that appeared with no conscious command and was learned with no teacher.

“Dinner should be served within the hour,” she whispered back. “Oh, I forgot we were to dine with the Tilneys this evening.”

“I sent our excuses before we left London and will cancel the rest of our engagements for the week.”

She felt it was silly, to be so moved by such a small thing, but he was such a caring, hard working man, who did his best to ensure her comfort, that she at times felt an almost physical reaction, as if her heart actually swelled with love for him.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, earning that crooked smile that always made her happy.

“And I shall write to Lady Susan this evening,” she supplied, only just realizing the woman would want to know all.

After Babington had excused himself to his study, Esther looked down at the sleeping child in her arms. He had grown heavier in the three weeks she’d been gone but the weight felt good. He grew warm in her arms but she was loath to release him. She supposed she could have the cradle brought down or even lay him on the blanket on the floor as she’d seen Charlotte do on more than one occasion—perfectly sensible options. Rather Esther carefully lowered herself into a big chair near the fire, her eyes glued to the child, desperate to not disturb his sleep, until she was well-settled against the pillows and spent the next hour contentedly watching him sleep. His rounded cheeks and smooth, pink lips were beautiful. She reveled in the knowledge that she was his protector, that she was the one to hold him safe and well. She ignored the nagging voice deep within her that sought to remind her that he did not belong to her, that she was offered as counterfeit to his actual mother. In that moment she merely wanted to feel motherly. It was an odd sensation, to be so at peace even as a desperate longing welled within her.

The night that followed proved to be one of the more difficult of Esther’s life, however. Rather than awaken refreshed and happy, Nathaniel was cranky and discontent most of the evening. He repeatedly slapped away the sucking bottle, either displeased with the cold glass or with the bread, water, cow’s milk, and sugar concoction that served as substitute to his mother’s milk, or, Esther suspected, with both.

He had eaten well enough the dinner of bread soaked in beef broth and softened carrots, so Esther knew he would not starve, but he clearly longed for the comfort only his mother could provide. He wailed and wailed, twisting and turning in her arms, refusing to be quieted and calmed.

She had failed.

She hadn't even realized she was crying until Babington had walked into the makeshift nursery long after the sun had retired, and took the baby from her.

“I will walk with him awhile. You rest, my dear.”

But Esther couldn’t rest. She merely sat in a nearby chair and gave in to the tears.

“Now he definitely reminds me of his father,” teased Babington, but Esther only cried harder.

When she had exhausted herself, she wiped at her cheeks, embarrassed and stared at her husband, daring him to say anything. He wisely chose to ignore her outburst and instead began softly singing a bawdy sea shanty.

“Babington!” she hissed, as he swayed the baby back and forth to the lyrical descriptions of a mermaid's magical breasts.

He chuckled, delighted by her response, and Esther found herself, quite angrily, beginning to smile.

She conceived herself that the laws of nature would soon take control and that the small baby would eventually wear himself out with his fussing, but he proved as stubborn and willful as his parents, pressing on well past midnight.

When the baby released a loud, unmistakable sound and an unholy smell began to permeate the room, Babington ripped back the blanket to reveal that Nathaniel had made a mess of his cloth and the mess was running up his back as well.

Esther began to panic. “Is he sick? Should we fetch the doctor?”

She was met with Babington’s own wide eyes, as he held the screaming child away from him, a look of horror and disgust mixed on his face.

Mrs. Norris. the housekeeper, was called for, and the tired woman gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry sir, ma’am. I’ve not had much experience with little ones. But Lily, one of the scullery maids comes from a large family. She may know.”

Lily appeared, nervous and unsure standing before the Lord and Lady of the house in her nightdress, but took one look at the poor babe and offered to clean him up.

Esther watched as the young woman stripped him down and used a cloth to wipe him clean from top to bottom, then dressed him in only a nappy and laid him across her arm on his belly.

“Should we send for the doctor?” Esther asked.

“Well...I couldn’t rightly say for sure ma’am…I mean milady...that is, sometimes babe’s jus’ has a bit of upset. They feel things keenly you see. New surroundin’s or new folks can cause a sour stomach. But it can pass easily enough...or it can linger,” Lily answered, clearly uncertain of her own position. She rubbed the baby’s back as he rested against her arm, and soon his cries began to slow to whimpers, and then silence. He was fast asleep, drooling onto the sleeve of her nightdress.

A stunned Lord and Lady Babington could only look on.

“There now,” Lily whispered. “Right as rain. Shall I leave him with you?”

“No!” came the swift response from the couple. Then a softer, “No, I think, if you’re willing and if Mrs. Norris agrees, we’d like you to act as temporary nursemaid,” came from Lord Babington.

It was agreed and a speechless Lily, who’d gone to bed a scullery maid, now elevated to a position of distinction in the home, remained with the baby in the nursery, and the weary couple made their way to bed.

Esther refusing to speak.

_Not even a mother in pretense._

The next morning, a tired and cantankerous baby, and two tired and overwhelmed godparents did their best to get through the day.

Esther had awoken to find Lily and Nathaniel in the kitchen, the glass bottle abandoned in favor of a bit of sponge Lily used to soak up the milk, and Nathaniel sucked happily away at.

She declined Lily’s invitation to take over feeding him, not wishing to disturb his breakfast.

They received word that Mrs. Heywood and Miss Alison Heywood had arrived that morning, and that Charlotte’s fever had not yet broken, nor had she received much relief from her cough.

Esther worried over her friend and over the baby.

They spent the day indoors, Esther returning to her role as godmother, playing with Nathaniel in the morning then handing him over to Lily for his midday meal and nap, then again playing with him and reading to him before his evening meal and bedtime, sending him again off with a kiss for the night with the nursemaid.

Babington said nothing, but she could see the confusion and concern in his eyes. She ignored it and gave no chance for him to make inquiries beyond learning there had been no repeat of the previous night’s upset.

“Nathaniel seems to be settling in, and Lily has done a wonderful job with him,” was all she was able to produce.

The next day Lily suggested a walk out of doors as Nathaniel had grown whiny and listless.

“Perhaps it‘s too cold to take him out,” Esther hedged. “Are we certain he has not taken ill?”

Lily frowned, not used to being listened to by anyone in the house and not sure if she was allowed to disagree with the lady.

“He seems to be doin’ alright this mornin’ milady. He slept most of the night, maybe a bit tired is all. Ate a good breakfast. Some fresh air might be jus’ what sets him back up to good humor.”

So Esther dressed for the outdoors, and the two women took a bundled up Nathaniel outside. Esther longed to hold him and play with him but now felt wholly inadequate. Lily cared for him with the same ease and confidence she’d witnessed in Charlotte. Perhaps she simply wasn’t made to be a mother.

She felt the wound within her reopen, the scab that had grown over during her time in London cracked and bled, making it hard to catch her breath.

“Are you alright, milady?”

“Yes...I...I must return to the house. I remembered there is a correspondence I meant to finish this morning,” she answered, then quickly turned back the way they came, knowing she left a bewildered Lily behind. But she couldn’t wait, she could feel it building within her, bubbling up like the boiling of water, that desperate sadness that made her heart sick and her mind jumbled.

She walked passed the entry to the house and just kept going, walking and walking, feeling the cold air whip at her cheeks and dry her eyes. Yet, it felt good, it felt necessary, like it was the only proof she had any life in her.

She had no particular direction in mind, only an insatiable need to keep going, even as her lungs burned with each deep breath. She walked, almost by habit, to the Parkers’ small cottage on the edge of the estate.

She thought to check on Charlotte’s chickens but as she approached the coop, a chicken squawked loudly and Esther was reminded that while she appreciated all chickens provided, she hated the damn things. So she continued her walk, but stopped short when she rounded the home and found Sidney Parker standing in the cold.

“Oh,” she said, startled.

Sidney turned to her and Esther was struck by the state of him. His hair stuck up in different directions, as if he’d been running a hand through it incessantly. The growth along his jaw and chin was like a dark shadow covering his face, matched by the smudges beneath his eyes, which were red and exhausted.

Fear took hold, and Esther felt her heart begin to beat wildly.

“Sidney?”

It was just his name, but the question behind it rang between them.

“They are both still fighting,” he said, his voice gruff and weary.

Relief rushed through her, leaving her a little light-headed. “What has happened?”

He ran a hand over his face, as if breaking through the sea water for a gulp of air. “Forgive me, I was just...I was sent on an errand by my mother-in-law to fetch clean clothes and by my wife to check on our son.”

Esther waited, shifting awkwardly. The man she had found standing alone in the cold had been lost in a world crafted by “what ifs” and “if onlys.” It was a dark place that demanded much of its occupants.

“I haven’t gone inside yet,” he admitted, staring at the home. “I’ve just been standing here. I...I can’t bring myself to see...to see signs of her life—a knife left in the sink, her shoes by the door, the half made blanket she was working on for the new baby, the smell of her soap in the kitchen, Nathaniel’s toy forgotten on our bed...I can’t…”

His lips pressed together and she could see his jaw clenching, his throat working.

“Tell me what you need,” she said. “I will go in and get everything.”

He looked to her, really looked, his eyes finally focusing on more than the possibilities that haunted him.

“I’m being a fool,” he whispered, his breath catching, and she could see he was losing control, spiraling down into the silence she knew only too well.

She reached for him, taking his arms in her hands, forcing his gaze to meet hers.

“You will survive this moment.”

It was all she could promise, because that was how she survived, from one moment to the next.

His head fell, his shoulders shaking as the fear and anxiety and exhaustion of the last four days over took the stubborn thread of his tenuous hold. There was no stopping the sob that escaped his lips. He towered over her but she held firm, refusing to let him fall. She knew this was all she could offer him, but as she held him up, she felt a faint spark inside her chest. She felt she was being the friend Sidney needed, the family. She was needed.

As she awkwardly held him, mindful of propriety in even the darkest of times, allowing him a space to release what he had fought to keep locked up, she too began to weep. Neither made any move to be closer and both avoided each other’s eyes, there were no words spoken, only a moment of raw emotional honesty between two people who had stretched beyond the point of what they could bear.

Esther was the first to recover, swiping at her eyes, knowing her fair skin had turned red and splotchy, even as she worked to wipe away the evidence of her breakdown from her cheeks. Sidney cleared his throat several times, using his shirtsleeve to rid his own face of the shine of tears.

“My apologies,” he finally said, unable to meet her eyes.

“No,” she interjected. “No more apologies.”

This time he allowed his dark eyes to meet her blues, as they often did in his intense way, and he nodded. “No more apologies.”

“Now, tell me what you need from inside and then we will get you to your little boy.”

Esther moved through the Parker home quickly, gathering all that was needed, including the little teddy bear that had been left on the bed. The same driving need that had sent her walking aimlessly, now drove her home. She walked swiftly, forcing herself to keep from running, mindful of Sidney’s worn out condition, but she felt that if she didn’t see her husband soon then she’d never feel warm again.

When the pair entered the home she directed Sidney to the nursery then slipped away into Babington’s study, finding him sitting behind his desk.

She said nothing in response to his greeting, only moved around the desk, forcing him to turn towards her. She climbed into his lap, and buried herself against him.

If he was taken aback by her actions he said nothing, nor did he comment on the chill of her cloths, only wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly, ensuring she would not fall.

“I thought it was getting better, that _I_ was getting better,” she said against the skin of his neck. “But it’s not.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

They sat in silence, neither eager to move, content to just sit and be, just the two of them, but one in heart and spirit. It wasn’t enough to right all that was wrong, but for that moment, it would suffice.


	3. I bought a pen and I turned the page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babington wonders, Sidney struggles, and Esther makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me apologize for the delay with this chapter. I basically triggered my own ass with it and had to take a step back. Then school started back up and as a teacher it has literally been non-stop trying to figure out lesson plans for online vs. in person vs. hybrid, and with family on top of work, I’ve been stretched thin. I’ve written small bits at a time and finally finished today. I’m excited about fall break and hope to get a bigger portion of writing done in one sitting! But I promise, even if it’s slow going for the next little while. I am going to finish this story. 
> 
> Secondly, this chapter (at 5300 words lol) is the shortest chapter and I didn’t get as much in it as I wanted, but the ending refused to budge. So this will most likely be a 5 chapter story...but I think I’ll stop trying to guess how long it’s going to be. I’m always wrong!
> 
> Thank you so much for hanging in there! The note of encouragement to keep going were a literal boon to me when I was feeling overwhelmed. 
> 
> All my love, Piper!
> 
> Not beta’d

It had been a dark day when Lord Babington’s father had passed away. The man had been a hero to his son, an ideal father and husband. He’d had no interest in embracing the tonish fashion of marrying for wealth and breeding, rather, he chose love. He’d married a pastor’s daughter. She’d been a sweet, lovely young girl without station or much in the way of dowry. But she’d possessed a temperament that made all feel welcomed and a spirit that worked towards the good of others, and the young peer of the realm was absolutely besotted by her wide smile and kind eyes. She carried herself with dignity, practiced very pretty manners, and, after years of attending to her father’s parish, knew how to care and command. To the surprise of many, she stepped easily into the role of Lady of the estate. The fruits of the union blossomed with two equally lovely daughters and one jovial, smiling son. It had been an easy, happy childhood, full of adventures, parties, laughter, merriment, and love. The siblings were uncommonly close, and when young Master Babington left for school, they felt the separation keenly. 

His father had taken his son’s education very seriously. He’d dragged the boy around the estate with him, showing him the draining system and the tenant homes, included him in important decisions regarding planting and purchases for machinery, and demonstrated the compassion needed to be a good landlord, along with the patience needed to deal with the occasional bad worker. He’d hired tutors to ensure he knew his Latin, his dance steps, and his history. And, when his son was of age, he sent him off to gain experience and a deeper understanding of the world and his responsibility in it. He did all he could to ensure his son would one day be as prepared as possible to assume the mantle of patriarch. 

He’d happily attended each daughter’s wedding, pleased in their choice of husbands. Each daughter had been allowed a quite liberal education and been encouraged from a young age to find a path to happiness. One married the second son of a duke who’d made a name for himself in Wellington’s army, and the other, a well-to-do Scottish Laird whose knowledge of animal husbandry was not to be matched. But what the men truly possessed was the love of their respective wives, a love they reciprocated in full. 

Indeed, the Babingtons had a very nasty habit of choosing the heart over anything society offered or expected. 

When Babington’s father died, and the title fell to him, he’d not been scared of his future—perhaps a little nervousness borne of the natural state of a novice—but what he’d truly suffered with was the loss of a man he loved deeply. He was content in knowing he’d not withheld his affection from his father, they had always been open and honest with each other, something he’d learned from boys at school was not always the case between father and son. His father had not passed on with words left unsaid, rather, it was the understanding that his father would not be there to kiss his daughter-in-law, to be grandpapa to his own children, and would not be there to laugh with and live life with that left him with feelings of sorrow.

Babington had mourned his father even as he celebrated him. There were still times when he found himself speaking to the man—a jolly joke or a quiet plea for advice.

When he’d met Esther Denham, he’d ridden all the way back to his country estate, right to his father’s grave, to ensure he was the first to know he’d met the woman he hoped to marry one day.

“She’s feisty, Father,” he’d said happily, sitting in the grass. “She makes me laugh even when, I suspect, she has no such intentions. She is a revelation of color in a world of banality. I honestly cannot say whether she would prefer murder to matrimony, and I find that terribly delightful.”

Esther Denham was as far from his mother’s temperament and his sisters’ easy personalities as a woman could be. Her smiles were hard won and a kind word was something earned after much labor. And yet, he found himself quite beset with a need to garner such favors. There was a satisfaction that followed even the smallest glimmer of hope for her affection—even if it was nothing more than the reward of seeing the sadness leave her eyes for just a moment. 

He was unaccustomed to seeing the stoic, uninterested look on the face of a woman of Esther’s age and station. He’d been intrigued, wanting to learn more about her, much as anyone would an oddity or mystery. Yet, the more he tried to learn, the less he understood. However, he was surprised to find his desire for her growing into something more emotionally driven. He felt there was much she kept hidden but he was smart enough to recognize that there was a natural truth even within deception. He began to see her stoicism as pain and her unintrest as fear. 

He felt his world shift the first time he made her laugh and knew that would be a feeling he’d spend the rest of his life chasing.

Sir Edward’s destructive treatment of his sister was enough to inspire Babington to do all that he could to give her a home and a life free of such manipulations and control. It was important to him for her to always feel safe, respected, and valued.

It was a hard lesson for him to learn that he could not forever protect her from pain.

He knew the sunshine of newly discovered love was unsustainable, but was not prepared for the gray clouds of loss that had taken residence in their life. He felt the loss of each little baby keenly and would always carry them within his heart, but it was not in his nature to wallow and live in his sorrow. His three angels were a part of him and he mourned each in his own way, then found a place where he could keep them and love them.

Esther, however...

His wife’s heart loved them and her mind could only remember the terrible pain of their loss. It was as if she was unable to think of them without reliving the heartache.

_What do I do Father? How do I heal this hurt?_

Babington found himself thinking of his father often, wishing for the man’s advice more now than ever.

 _Love her always_.

Those words always came back to him again and again.

He was not an especially religious man, but he believed in the power of the connection that existed between family. He believed that there was more to life than this mortal coil, and he never doubted his father continued to walk this path with him.

_Love her always._

Those words were what his father was offering.

He kept those words with him always, clung to the belief that they were his key to unlocking the part of Esther she had caged after so much loss. But as time went by, he began to doubt loving her was enough. She had regained her strength, they had found ways to maintain the intimacy of marriage, and she had refused to submit her wit and sharp tongue to her grief, but still there lingered the shadow of those dark clouds. Her pain was private and he struggled to not feel it a type of rejection. He longed to be accepted into that part of her.

London had restored some of her spirit, but it was as if she believed she would never again be whole. 

He was lost.

He honestly didn’t know if caring for Nathaniel Parker was helping or hurting her. He knew there was no question of the service they offered. They loved the Parkers and they loved their godson. They would not be able to live with themselves if they abandoned them in their hour of need.

He thought back to those harrowing days following the last loss. The memory of Esther’s pale skin contrasted with the dark, thick blood would haunt him for the rest of his life. He knew some of the desperate fear that gripped Sidney, and he would do all he could to help his friend.

But part of him wanted to take Esther as far away from it all, to shield her from more heartache, more loss, more of life’s uncertainty. 

He held her now, her skin cold from the long walk, and he felt a shiver go through him. He wanted her warm in the sun again.

He wanted to ask her about her sudden willingness to depend on the maid for the majority of Nathaniel’s care, he wanted to know how she felt about raising a child that was not born of her body. He knew how much she cared for baby Nathaniel but perhaps she felt incapable of taking the role of mother to a child gifted to them from another woman. He wanted to speak of these things but found he struggled for the words. He wondered if there were even words that could touch the part of Esther that had bled so quietly away.

“Sidney has come to check on his son,” she mumbled after a long moment of thought, her words absorbed by the thick wool of his coat. 

“Sidney’s here?” he asked, shifting to look down at her.

“In the nursery,” Esther confirmed, “most likely scaring poor Lily witless.”

Anxious to see his friend, he gave Esther a gentle nudge, earning him a sardonic smirk from his wife as she slid to her feet, allowing him to rise.

The Babingtons arrived at the nursery, discovering Esther’s prediction had not been far from the truth. Lily stood awkwardly in the corner, looking about the room with nervous uncertainty and throwing suspicious glances at the dark, scowling figure holding the baby. She was unused to the comings and goings off the upper class—the majority of her time relegated to the kitchen and laundry—but had heard rumors of wealthy, devilish men who preyed on house maids, indeed, had been warned most heartily by her mother to avoid such men. She didn’t believe Lord Babington to be one such, but the other maids had spoken of the silent, brooding Mr. Parker and the disreputable, drunken Mr. Crowe who were often found in his lordship’s company. She hadn’t asked many questions about the baby, mostly because she was still rather afraid of her lady and lordship, but she had been quite startled to look up from the floor of the nursery where she and the baby played to find a towering figure looking rather disheveled and menacing making his way towards them. The panic she kept a tenuous hold over leapt to the surface when she saw her employers arrive.

“Milady, he says he’s the babe’s father,” she said hurriedly, fearing she’d made an unforgivable error allowing this stranger access to the child.

Esther gave her a reassuring smile. “All is well, thank you Lily. You’ve been with the baby all day, why don’t you go down for a meal while Mr. Parker spends some time with his son.”

Lily’s eyes grew wide— _Mr. Parker—_ but she recovered quickly. Dropping a quick bob of a curtsy and dashing from the room, a frisson of excitement and fear speeding her along. She knew Mrs. Norris didn’t tolerate gossip but if she was quick then she could tell Cook and the other scullery maid all she had learned before the housekeeper could interfere. 

For his part, Sidney gave Esther a raised eyebrow, hinting at his ire.

“Don’t give me that look Mr. Sidney Parker,” she said, her own face growing hard. “That girl has helped with _your_ son immensely and has done a rather good job of keeping him happy. You owe her your thanks, not your dark looks.”

Properly chastened, he nodded. “Forgive me. I’m grateful for all that you two have done. I will...ensure our thanks are passed on to the girl. I…” he trailed off, looking down at the smiling baby in his arms, the pudgy hands and fingers gripping the beloved bear Charlotte had sewn for him. Sidney felt something shift in him. “I can’t decide if he is bigger than I remembered or smaller. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

Lord Babington looked to his wife, seeing the same uncertainty and concern in her eyes.

“Sidney, you’ll stay for some luncheon of course?” Babbers said, taking in his friend's haggard face and exhausted eyes. He watched as the other man cuddled the baby close, seeming to breathe in the infant.

With a weary sigh Sidney shook his head.

“I must return. I’ve been gone longer than I hoped as it is,” came his answer, though he made no move to relinquish his son.

“Babington will call the carriage,” Esther said, her voice soft but her tone firm, making it clear she would hear no argument. 

His wife was a clever one, knowing it would take some time to have the carriage hitched and ready, allowing Sidney to hold onto his child a while longer.

Esther excused herself with a hand on his arm and a whispered, “I’m going to have Cook pack him something.”

He nodded, watching her go.

The baby had grown quiet, his head now resting against Sidney‘s chest, two fingers in his mouth. Babbers stood silent as his friend gently swayed back and forth. He remembered when Sidney was younger, more carefree, more unguarded. But then he’d lost his parents and he’d learned the first of several harsh lessons. Just as he was healing, emerging back into himself, rescued—he believed—by love, that love had thrown him over without much of an explanation. Babington could do little else but try and ensure a drunken Sidney made it home safely each night. The gambling, carousing, and women became more of a drug than even the alcohol (and Sidney had managed to consume incredible amounts of alcohol). He’d been grateful when Tom stepped in. Sidney had needed an older brother and, for all his current selfishness surrounding Sanditon, Tom Parker has been a good brother to Sidney in that moment. 

Sober, Sidney wouldn’t speak much of his time in Antigua, but when he was just enough in his cups to be in the hazy world of philosophizing eulogies, he would whisper of the horrors across the sea. 

“ _If there is anything in this world that can destroy the very soul of a man, that can crush the humanity from a person as a grape squashed under foot, it is slavery. There seems no limitation on the cruelty one man can inflict on another, no depravity too low or injustice too base.”_

The tormented look in Sidney’s unfocused eyes had left him cold.

Babbers began to fear that the Sidney of his youth was truly gone forever, replaced by the hardened, isolated man who seemed to only function on duty—a route way of life that neither satisfied nor challenged. Counterfeit.

When Sidney laughed it was with no joy. When he praised it was with little warmth. When he indulged it was with no delight. Anger seemed the only response to bear any genuineness.

Yet, Babington had to believe there was something left of his old friend. He’d seen him smile brightly at his sister-in-law Mary, and he’d heard him speaking with pride and merriment of some antic of a niece or nephew.

Hidden deep within Sidney had been a glowing ember in desperate need of a spark to catch before it died out.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised that such a stoking came from the winds of Willingden. He, himself had thought Charlotte Heywood a lovely, fresh face innocent, with a ready wit and tempting brown eyes. She gave no airs but neither did she wilt into the foppish and simpering. He would readily praise her level headedness, though he knew her sheltered upbringing had left her a touch too naïve in some ways. She was not especially fashionable. She was much too round and curvy in a time when thin and willowy was all that was enviable, and the freckles on her nose were a testament to too much time spent in the sun when other women would spend hours scrubbing their cheeks with lemons in an effort to keep their skin as pale and unblemished as possible. But she was rather pretty and pleasantly charming...and absolutely not someone he would have imagined Sidney Parker giving two damns about.

She didn’t look like Eliza. She didn’t act like Eliza. She didn’t talk like Eliza, think like Eliza, or dress like Eliza. He didn’t think he could have conjured a creature more unlike Eliza Campion than that of Charlotte Heywood.

But she’d arrived like lightning in summer, striking the dry and hollowed out Sidney, igniting a fire within him that would finally burn away all that had rotted and festered, leaving only the renewed and cleaned behind. And Babington had been happy and excited for his dear friend. 

Then a fire of another kind had swept through, a fire bent on destruction and tragedy.

He thought he had seen the worst of Sidney Parker after Eliza had ripped his heart out, but it turned out there was something even more disconcerting than angry, bitter, drunken Sidney: quiet, stoic, lifeless Sidney. Only once had Sidney allowed himself to get lost in drink, only once had he lost all control and wept over what he’d lost in front of his friend, only once had he allowed the raw, unrestrained pain of heart break free, and it had nearly destroyed him. 

Babbers refuses to stand by and watch his friend live himself to death, and when his own wife had come to him demanding they do something to reunite their two friends, he knew they would succeed. Babington knew no hardship or sacrifice they would be forced to endure would ever compare to the hell of being denied their love for each other.

And yet, there stood his friend now, the very weight of life now sleeping in his arms, even with death, a puppeteer, looming above, ready to pull the delicate strings.

Was there to be no relief?

He watched as Sidney shifted the sleeping baby away from his chest to lay more fully across his arms, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched his son’s face scrunch up before relaxing again into slumber.

“I’m sorry…” Sidney whispered, his low voice rumbling in his chest.

Babington’s brow lowered in confusion at his words.

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t the friend to you that you needed when...when Lady Babington was so ill.”

The apologetic words surprised him, catching him so unaware he struggled to respond, sputtering out nonsense until he managed to say, “My dear man, I don’t know if you or your sweet wife could have done more for us.”

Sidney just shook his head. “It wasn’t enough. I understand now...it wasn’t enough.”

Babington sighed. “There is nothing anyone can do when facing the possibility of such loss. There was no relief to be had from the fear and desperation...but I knew I was not alone and that was enough. In that moment, it was enough.”

_Love her always._

Those words again invaded his mind.

Sidney’s gaze had not moved from the child, his voice growing even softer. “I’ve been thinking about... about what I would do if…” he cleared his throat, pausing, swallowing, choking. “I’ve been wondering if I lose her, if our short time together would be worth it in the face of a lifetime of heartache…”

“Sidney,” Babington warned, wary of such talk.

“But even as I dread the idea, even as my body physically rebels at the thought, I know the answer is yes. If I were granted no more days with her, I wouldn’t trade our time together for any freedom from grief or loss. I can endure it, and I don’t understand how.”

“Because you’ve already loved her an eternity,” Babington said easily, as if it were the most obvious answer. 

Sidney blinked at him, his brow furrowed. He said nothing at first, just stood, staring. Then, “Yes. Yes, that’s...yes.”

Sidney brought the baby’s crown to his lips, kissing the soft skin before carefully laying him in the crib.

“Papa will return soon,” he whispered so quietly Babington could barely make out the words. The two men slipped soundlessly from the room.

“I must return to Charlotte,” Sidney said. “Thank you again for taking care of my son. I don’t...I cannot tell you the ease it has brought to both of us to know he is so loved and cared 

Babington nodded. “Of course.”

Esther returned, a small basket of food in hand, and let them know the carriage was ready. She still had yet to remove her coat, and it was no surprise to her husband when she declared she would be accompanying Sidney so she could check on Charlotte herself.

His wife was possessed of a tender heart and wounded spirit encased in a unyielding breastplate. It was a combination that confused many, yet as he waved the pair off, he was overwhelmed with the privilege of being one of the few to truly understand. 

_Love her always_

Perhaps it was time to trust that was enough.

For her part, Esther has pushed her own problems far from her mind as they rode along the coast towards the old Parker family estate. She had discovered that the moments when she felt a reprieve from the prison of heartache were when she was either in her husband’s arms or when she dedicated herself to helping others. It came as somewhat of a surprise. She believed herself a rather selfish creature. There was no denying her treatment of Clara Brereton had lacked compassion and understanding, and her once overpowering disdain for her aunt had stemmed from a very greedy place. Her want of Edward had warped her into something she disdained. Yet, she has earned the love of a forgiving, mindful, and humble man. He had modeled a different kind of life, a different way to love and live. 

She had struggled in the beginning to resist those selfish impulses that once ruled, once protected and shielded her. But she had found a greater satisfaction in her services to others than she had thought possible. Now, the need to serve others was not merely a better way to live, but an actual buoy in the sea of drowned hopes. 

“Eat,” she commanded, unceremoniously shoving the basket of food into Sidney‘s lap. 

He seemed ready to argue, but she gave him an inpatient, drawl look, and with an unimpressed glare he’d dutifully pulled out a crusty wedge of bread and some cheese. She hid her triumphant smile. She may have changed and grown into a softer, kinder version of herself, but there was no reason to not utilize some of the cutting skills she’d once relied on.

"We've had a letter from Georgiana," he mumbled around a bit if cold chicken. "She is cutting her trip abroad short and coming home."

Esther nodded. It was for the best.

Once they arrived at the home, they quickly made their way up to the room Charlotte occupied. Esther was struck by the heat of the room. The curtains were drawn and a fire burned brightly in the fireplace. Mrs. Heywood sat by her daughter’s bed, knitting away while Charlotte slept and her other daughter, Alice or Allison—Esther couldn’t quite remember—sat reading. 

Sidney wasted no time sitting himself on the bed next to his wife, his critical eyes taking in every detail.

Esther felt her stomach drop as she saw for herself. Charlotte’s skin looked gray and cold. The rattling sound of each breath echoing around them like the old skeleton of Death himself. 

“There’s been no change,” Mrs. Heywood offered, anticipating her son-in-law’s line of questioning. “We tried to get some broth into her but she could not keep it down. The effort drained what little energy she may have had, and she’s been sleeping on and off.”

Sidney nodded, his eyes meeting Esther’s. 

“Lady Babington, please let me make known to you Charlotte’s mother and sister, Mrs. Heywood and Miss Allison Heywood.”

Both women made to stand in deference to Esther's station, but she waved them off quickly. 

“Sit, please,” she said. “I, of course, remember you both from the wedding and Nathaniel’s christening.”

“And how is my grandchild?” Mrs. Heywood asked, her brown eyes as easy going and welcoming as that of her daughter’s.

Esther offered her a smile, happy to share an antidote or two from the babe’s life over the last few days.

“Thank you,” came a raspy, breathless reply from the bed, drawing all eyes to a now awake Charlotte. She coughed with the effort of speaking, and Sidney moved to help her sit up.

She gripped the sleeve of Sidney’s shirt and spoke quietly, just for him. Their low murmuring somehow reassuring, even as Sidney shook his head is discontent. 

After a moment of further furtive whispering, he finally nodded, giving indication that Charlotte had won whatever mild disagreement they had, before pressing his cheek against hers for a moment then standing.

“Charlotte would like a few moments alone with Esther,” he announced. “And suggested that we all go downstairs and get some fresh air away from her and this room.”

Esther felt acutely uncomfortable, sensing what was coming. Sidney’s small, joyless smile before the trio left the room did little to alleviate her concern. 

She moved carefully to the side of the bed, taking the chair once occupied by Charlotte's mother, pulling it near so she could lean close to her friend.

“How are you?” She asked before grimacing. It was a moronic question. The red, feverish eyes, wan skin, lifeless hair, and labored breathing were testament enough to how the young woman was feeling.

But of course Charlotte merely smiled, a fading echo of her normal full teeth grin. “Feeling... just the thing…” she said, the effort clear. “Thinking of...taking a...beach stroll later.”

Despite the morbid atmosphere hanging heavy about them, Esther smiled at the joke. “You always were disgustingly optimistic.”

She knew her words were taken in the teasing manner they were meant as Charlotte allowed her eyes to close but her own smile to grow some. 

She allowed her hand to drop closer to the edge of the bed, a clear indication, and Esther answered immediately by reaching out and taking it in her own.

They sat in silence for a time, Charlotte needing the momentary respite and Esther hoping the words her friend was preparing would never come. But of course they would, they had to; these things could not be left unsaid.

“Tell me,” Charlotte finally whispered. “How’s my baby boy?”

Esther wished she hadn’t heard the break in Charlotte’s voice, wished she hadn't felt that break deep inside her soul, but she knew how to ignore the unpleasant, at least on the surface, so she smiled brightly, a grin full of teeth and bright eyes. 

Esther again recounted her stories of Nathaniel, though this time she included a great deal more detail.

“He is doing well then?” Charlotte asked.

Esther heard the real question. “He misses his mother.”

Charlotte closed her eyes, the tears she’d kept at bay now pushed out of the corner of her eyes and into her hair. 

Esther could see her throat working to swallow, to gain control.

“Charlotte—”

“I’m not giving up,” she whispered, cutting off Esther’s attempts at empty promises. “But I will not risk my son’s care and future by not being prepared.”

Her words gave Esther pause, and she waited as Charlotte pushed through a rough, racking cough. She helped her drink a sip of water.

“Sidney... he can’t speak of it. Won’t speak of it. I... understand, but I need to, and I know you are strong enough.”

Esther had to press her lips together and force the air slowly in and out of her nose. She wouldn’t give into to the tears. She could beat this, for her friend. She nodded.

“If I... die, I just need to hear, to know…” she paused, collecting her thoughts. She began again. “I know Sidney will love and care for Nathaniel, but a child needs a mother, needs the love of a mother.” Her eyes met Esther’s with a clarity no illness could smother. 

The petition had been presented.

Esther wanted to say no, to deny the need for such a request, but she may have been foolish at times, but she had never been impractical. She thought of the woman downstairs who could easily step into the role of surrogate mother, women with more experience, patience, knowledge, who held a blood relation to little Nathaniel. It all lay on the tip of her sharp tongue, but she found she could not—did not—want to deny her heart anymore. Charlotte knew her qualifications and chose her. 

That was enough.

She forced the lump in her throat down, but the tears she could not stop. 

“Your son will know the love of two mothers,” she promised.

The grief and relief she saw in those large brown eyes burned with a glossy sheen, and for a time Charlotte seemed to give into the pain she’d held so tightly at bay. Esther simply held her hand, as they both struggled to regain the control that had held women together in the face of centuries of loss and heartache. 

There was nothing beautiful or delicate to this moment, and Charlotte needed Esther’s help to clean the mucus and wet from her face. 

“Sidney—” Charlotte began, having regained herself.

“I’ll not be his mother,” Esther said sardonically, one eyebrow raised.

Charlotte gave a bark of laughter, the remark so sudden and unexpected. 

How easily the heaviness of tears could give way to lightness of joy, thought Esther, as the ridiculousness of her comment seemed to chase away some of the ugliness of reality. 

“You are so dear to me Esther,” Charlotte said with a small smile. 

Esther was done being moved by this farmer’s daughter. “Enough with the maudlin,” she declared with all the haughtiness of her aunt. “Of course we will ensure Sidney does not give way to his grief. Your two men will be well cared for, rest assured. Though it will be damned inconvenient to have three men to care for in my life.”

Charlotte closed her eyes, beginning to lose the battle of wakefulness, but the hint of a smile lingered on her lips. 

“Sleep,” commanded Esther. “You will get better, and all these tears will be for naught. but you need to take care. I will sit with you awhile.”

When Esther returned home, she found Babington on the library floor with Nathaniel, the sounds of the baby’s fully-belly laughter the match lighting the pyre that had been building within her all day. She felt the shell around her heart burn away.

She knelt beside her husband, placed a kiss on his cheek, and said, “I’m ready.”

He gave her half smile, half frown, his head tilting.

“I know there is a child out there for us to love and care for,” she answered. “When Charlotte has recovered, I want to find our child.”

Babington’s face flushed with joy, his smile stretching, as he wrapped her tightly in his arms.

“My sweet, clever, girl,” he gushed, and a contented warmth seemed to spread between them, something more than healing or love. It was a feeling as if nothing could contain them. It was infinite. 

Babington didn’t think he would ever be able to properly explain it, but it was in that moment that he finally understood his father’s words.

_Love. Her. Always._

Thank you for reading!!!(More soon...ish. Happier times on the horizon I believe. And Georgiana makes an appearance!)


	4. We never got to finish the book of you and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stars shine brightest in the darkness. A small reward, but one that challenges existence, reality, and our place in the universe. There is beauty all around. We just have to remember to look up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much again, for all the support and encouragement. It truly motivates me to keep going. I know this isn’t the fluffiest story or the most intriguing, but I hope the smaller moments of triumph have meaning. Thank you so much to those who continue to stick with this story. You are my inspiration!
> 
> Unbeta’d

It took five days. 

Five days until Sidney burst into the Babington’s home, breathless and elated. Charlotte’s fever had broken and not returned. His voice dry and exhausted but full of relief and joy, hiding the times he’d held his wife in his arms, begging her to keep breathing, forcing Dr. Fuch’s medicine down her throat again and again, afraid to close his own eyes for fear that he’d awaken to find her gone. All of that remained unsaid and buried in his bones.

“She still has a ways to go but Dr. Fuch’s has declared her out of danger.” The Babingtons ignored the break in his voice.

Esther smiled and rejoiced, clapping her hands delightedly, watching as her husband embraced their friend. She hid her own tears, escaping to the stairs to fetch Nathaniel, disappearing into a small alcove until she had allowed the anxiety and fear to wash away with each drop. 

The baby boy smiled brightly at her when she entered the nursery, his wet grin showing off the tiny, hard won teeth, as he clapped his arms happily, then reached for her. 

She thought she’d rid herself of all tears, but seeing his happiness and knowing he’d soon be reunited with his mother filled her with such giddiness and delight that she felt her eyes again grow full, though this time, as a few escaped down her cheek, they were heralded with sounds of laughter and merriment.

“Your Mama is going to be well soon, my darling,” she gushed, pressing her cheeks against his own soft, warm cheek.

She thanked Lily, informing the maid turned nanny she’d keep Nathaniel with her for the rest of the afternoon, and took the babe downstairs to see his papa.

Nathaniel gave a squawk of recognition as soon as his eyes took in his father’s appearance. Father and son were reunited as Sidney peppered the baby with kisses, eliciting shrieks of laughter. 

There was a lightness about them, a kind of lightness born only from the contrast of threatening shadow. There was no containing the smiles and heady laughter. The cage of uncertainty and fear had been opened, and they were left to run in the sunlight and warmth.

“Shall you take Nathaniel with you?” Esther asked, genuinely unsure of the next step.

Sidney hesitated. “Charlotte  _ is  _ desperate to see him, but fears upsetting him and risking disruption to the routine he’s been able to establish being away from her.”

The baby at that moment reached out a small hand to his chin, forcing his papa’s face back, babbling endlessly, seemingly unpleased at losing his father’s complete attention.

Sidney could only laugh, catching the tiny hand and kissing the palm. 

Esther frowned, considering Charlotte’s objections. They were the objections of a mother, a mother whose love for her child had taught her the meaning of sacrifice. Sometimes, however, a mother needed a friend to love her in a way that saved her from such sacrifice.

“We will take him to see her,” she declared. “I am sure there will be some upset involved, but a child needs his mother and a mother needs her child. We will handle the fallout.”

She gave Sidney no chance of argument, and the three males seemed quite content to defer to her judgement. The carriage was called, the young master’s coat and bear fetched, and they were soon headed back to the old Parker home. 

Nathaniel seemed able to sense something new, something in the excitement within the small space. He alternated between climbing all over his father and plopping himself contentedly in Sidney’s lap and resting his head against his chest. 

When they finally arrived, they were met with more smiles from the many Parker and visiting Heywood. Each exclaiming over how much Nathaniel had grown since last he’d been seen. 

Sidney did not linger long, his mother-in-law’s assurance that Charlotte was awake and sitting up was enough to propel him up the stairs; Esther in tow.

As they entered the sick room, Esther could not help but remember how she had found her friend the last time. She had not allowed herself to admit it, but a seed of doubt over Charlotte’s recovery had taken root at that moment. It had niggled at her mind, and Esther had struggled to keep that doubt from growing and wrapping its long vines around her heart. 

Now she took in her friend, lying beneath the blanket. She was still pale and drawn, but the steady, unhindered rise and fall of her chest was enough to inspire belief that they truly were to find themselves at the end of this crisis. 

If Nathaniel’s reaction to seeing his father had been vocal, it was nothing to the moment he saw his mother. He wrenched his body about, arching and reaching desperately out to her, his squeals and cries not to be silenced until granted his greatest desire.

Sidney sat carefully on the bed, keeping a firm hold on the wildly squirming child until he was certain of Charlotte’s readiness.

“My baby boy,” Charlotte breathed, her arms outstretched, eyes bright.

Sidney hesitated, but there was no way to keep mother and child separate any longer. Nathaniel clambered out of his father’s arms and up his mother’s legs. His pudgy arms wrapped around her neck, his face pressed against her cheek, his round, little lips leaving a wet trail along her jaw. He climbed up her body, his stubby fingers getting knotted into her hair, seemingly trying to merge with her.

Charlotte, for her part, seemed unbothered by the assault, rather delighted, in fact, her light laughter mixing with the child’s constant babbling. 

Esther was smiling before she even realized it, her lips wide and her own laughter bubbling out. She could not remember the last time she felt so easy and content. There was no darkness in the corner, no monster under the bed. There was no room for the haunted memory of what had been lost. This was a time for rejoicing.

Esther watched Sidney for a moment, surprised to find his brown eyes so glassy. She looked away, embarrassed, and upset with herself for feeling embarrassed. She had no desire to intrude on this moment. She could only imagine the overwhelming sense of relief that took hold of him. He sat close to Charlotte, one hand atop her small, rounded belly, ensuring big brother did no harm with his flailing arms and legs, his other hand stretched out ready to catch the baby should he lose his balance as he wiggled about excitedly. His entire world shelved between his palms.

She couldn’t stay.

Esther slipped from the room, unsure where she was going. She wasn’t quite ready to join the others downstairs. Though her arms felt empty, her heart was too full to linger over what was missing. She wandered about the upstairs, finding herself just outside the young Parkers’ school room. It was empty, the Parker children spending their day with Aunt Diana and Uncle Arthur. She believed the last time she found herself in a schoolroom was just before she’d begun wearing a corset. The scent of ink in the air tickled her memory, and she felt pulled into the room. She walked about, taking in the books and toys in the corner. Her fingers danced around the globe, her imagination following her fingertips across the ocean. It was a big world, and she appreciated the gentle reminder.

She sat in one of the small chairs, the sunlight streaming in, warming the cool room. She allowed herself to sit in the quiet and for the first time in a long while she didn’t fear it. A heat began deep in her belly as she tentatively turned the key and unlocked the part of her she held so personally. She waited for the pain to flood her, to knock her down, to drown her, but all she felt was the emptiness. No, not emptiness, it was sadness. It was genuine sadness. It was painless sadness. The oddness of the thought caught her off guard. She ached, but she didn’t bleed. She felt, but she wasn’t overwhelmed.

She had spent so long wishing she understood, wishing she could make sense of her loss, wishing for birthdays instead of anniversaries of loss. There was an unfinished story in each little life, too many blank pages. She wanted to write and write and write. Write until the very end when there was no scrap of paper left uncovered. 

But she was not the author. Not in this.

And yet, with some trepidation, she considered all she could control.

She looked about the room and for the first time she could see her children, not the ghost of a once cherished hope, but children. She could see smiling eyes nearly hidden by chubby cheeks, braided hair with little bows, dirty toes and toothless grins. It was not sorrow that greeted them but excitement. 

There was a story for her to complete, one that would allow her to fill many pages to come.

She felt ready to say the words she’d once believed inadequate and too personal to share, but now rose within her, desperate to be free.

“Mama loves you,” she whispered into the sunlight. “I will always love you. My babies.”

She closed her eyes and breathed.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, each inhale and exhale the only sound filling her ears. She felt light and giddy, like the relief of release after the pain of an unbearable ache. 

“Lady Babington?”

She turned to the door, her eyes meeting Sidney’s. 

She could see the hesitation on his face, as if he understood he’d walked in on a moment not meant for him. 

She smiled brightly at him. “Yes?”

“Charlotte, she’s beginning to tire, but would like a moment with you.”

Esther nodded, rising to her feet, expecting this. Sidney stepped from the doorway, allowing her to pass. She reached out, her hand gripping his arm for a moment.

It was a new day for them both.

Sidney followed her down to Charlotte’s room, they could hear Nathaniel’s fussing from the hallway. 

“They are both tiring,” Sidney offered, a hint of long-suffering in his tone, though the gleam in his eye undermined any risk he had of his irritation being taken seriously. He opened the door for her and as they entered they found a rather disgruntled baby and a somewhat weepy Charlotte.

“Charlotte?” Sidney said, all traces of gaiety gone.

“He wants to feed but I—” she shook her head, trying to shush the baby. A significant look passed between Mr. and Mrs. Parker, a moment of understanding that eluded Esther.

He nodded, moving to sweep the baby up into his arms. The child screamed and twisted, his displeasure growing more and more unmanageable. 

Sidney seemed unsure what to do, when Charlotte said, “Let me kiss him once again and then take him downstairs.”

Esther’s heart broke at the large, fat tear rolling down the baby’s red face as he tried to get back into his mother’s hold. Charlotte kept a gentle smile on her face. “Mama will see you soon, my darling.”

Esther suddenly felt guilty, wondering if it had been a bad idea to bring him, only to have to remove him again. Sidney stood from having bent over to allow Charlotte to kiss her child, giving Charlotte a pitiful, petitioning look. She nodded her understanding and Sidney took Nathaniel from the room. 

Once his cries could no longer be heard, Charlotte let out the breath she’d been holding. 

“I’m so sorry Charlotte,” Esther began, moving towards the bed. “I shouldn’t have insisted he come—”

Charlotte waved her off. “You brought my baby back to me. I can’t thank you enough.”

Esther sat by the bed, the same spot she’d pledge to care for Nathaniel as a mother. 

“He’s just tired and hungry and upset that he was denied what he wanted.”

Esther wanted to ask, once again hating her own ignorance, but felt too embarrassed.

Charlotte leaned heavily back against her pillows, her eyes closing, and Esther realized just how much healing was still left for the young mother. 

“My milk is gone,” she said, her eyes still closed. “Dr. Fuch’s said it was likely to happen, and doesn’t recommend I attempt to restart the process.”

Charlotte said nothing for a time, and Esther began to wonder if she had truly fallen asleep, but with a deep sigh she opened her eyes. “I’m ashamed to admit I’m glad.”

Esther offered a bemused smirk.

Charlotte shrugged. “My poor little boy. He’s a little young, but we all agree he’ll be fine. He’s eating so well these days and Sidney said you were able to get him to take the sucking bottle. I just...need the rest.”

Some of the light slipped from her eyes as she looked to Esther, and Esther realized with a start that Charlotte was waiting for her judgement. 

“A quite sensible plan,” she offered graciously. “And I can assure you, it took a little practice, but Nathaniel has done well with the bottle.”

Charlotte’s shoulders fell as some of the tension left her. “Good.”

Esther could see she was fading fast, in need of restorative sleep. “Charlotte, darling, did you need something from me?”

With a sleepy smile, Charlotte forced her eyes open. “Yes, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable keeping Nathaniel another few days. As you can see, I’m not quite back to full strength.”

Esther rolled her eyes. “Of course, he can stay as long as needed.”

Charlotte nodded, but Esther was sure she’d slipped to sleep this time. She stood, tucked the blanket around her friend, and quietly left. She found her way back downstairs, finding the many Heywoods and Parkers in the drawing room, talking happily. Her heart warmed as she heard her husband’s familiar laughter amid the conversation. There were times when she struggled to believe she was worthy of him, but she would silence those thoughts with a reminder that her greatest devotion to him was her willingness to believe and trust him. He said he loved her and needed her in his life. She would not dishonor him by choosing not to believe him. 

“My dear,” he greeted, extending his arm for her..

She stepped closer, nestling her fingers in the bend of his elbow. He and Sidney had been conversing, both smiling and laughing, looking younger than Esther had seen either look in sometime.

“Charlotte?” Sidney asked.

“Fast asleep.” 

He nodded.

“Nathaniel?” She parried back.

“Alison took him to the kitchen for a bit of food before his midday nap,” he answered. “I’m afraid he’s going to be quite a bear for you both this afternoon.”

Babington laughed. “Just like his father after a night of carousing, I dare say. Nothing we can’t handle.”

Sidney took the good natured teasing as it was intended. There would be no petty quarrels on a day like today.

Mary joined them and Esther couldn’t help but feel contentment grow. An affection for the people in the home had taken root. Without her realizing it, she had begun to think of Charlotte and Sidney’s family as dear friends. She knew she was always welcomed, and not as the niece and sole heir to Lady Denham’s wealth, but as Esther. She was even less alone in the world than she had been led to believe for most of her life.

By the time Alison returned, Nathaniel was cranky, tired, and seemed quite put out with everyone. He reached for his father, but continued to fuss. He fought having his coat put on, wanted to be put down then picked back up, and swiped his arm at anyone who dared try to take him from his father. 

Mary brought a blanket and it was agreed that Sidney would ride back with them to the Babington estate with the hope that Nathaniel would fall asleep in the carriage and could be transferred to the nursery undisturbed. Sidney losely swaddled the child, tucking both him and his small bear in his arms, and, as predicted, Nathaniel drifted off quickly with minimal fuss once the carriage began to move.

“Alison has offered to stay on as a help to Charlotte,” Sidney offered suddenly into the quiet as they rambled down the road.

“That should be wonderful,” Esther answered, taking in their friend’s own tired eyes. “Have you heard from Miss. Lambe? Any idea when we might expect her?”

“Yes, she is in Calais waiting to cross. Bad weather has delayed her, but we are hoping to see her back in Sanditon by next week.”

Esther smiled. “Delightful.”

Sidney nodded, his gaze moving from his sleeping child to the small window nearest him. She could see a weariness settle in his shoulders.

“Mr. Parker, why not rest yourself for a while?”

Sidney frowned and exaggeratedly opened his eyes. “I’m alright.”

 _Just like his father_ _indeed_ thought Esther, her eyes meeting her husband’s with some exasperation. 

“Come, man, you’ll be no good to your wife or child if you find yourself in the sick bed,” Babington insisted, saving Esther from having to speak so plainly.

“Very well,” Sidney heaved. “Perhaps I will close my eyes for a bit.”

As the carriage rolled along Esther once again found herself reaching for her husband, craving the physical connection. Babington immediately acquiesced, but not before peeling off both his and her glove, allowing their naked fingers to intertwine. When she smiled up at him, she knew immediately that he could see some difference in her.

His head tilted, his eyes scrunching up in the way that always delighted her, an unspoken question dancing between them.

“All is well,” she whispered, before settling her own head against his shoulder, content to know that her words were genuinely meant and not just a manifestation of desperate need. The gentle heat of the warming brick, the careful rocking of the carriage, the scent of her husband’s leather and hint of cheroot, all worked to create a lulling that allowed Esther to dream in a way she’d feared for so long. 

They soon arrived home and care was taken to awaken one Parker and not the other. They carefully disembarked from the carriage, each so focused on keeping the baby asleep that none noticed the figure exiting the home.

“Babbers! Parker!” The voice boomed.

All turned as one, shushing the intruder wildly.

Sidney quickly bounced, tucking his baby closer, as all stood frozen, waiting to see whether they had earned a reprieve or condemnation. 

A small whimper was the only threat offered before the baby settled back down and a collective sigh of relief met their visitor’s eye roll. 

“Crowe, you fool,” whispered Babington, even as he went up the steps to greet his friend with a hearty handshake.

Sidney just glared as he walked passed, heading straight for the nursery. Esther sent word for Lily to be sent to stay with the child.

“Well, how was I to know?” Crowe drawled, not even bothering to feign remorse.

It was Esther’s turn to roll her eyes, though she did attempt to hide the gesture. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Mr. Crowe, it was just that his actions often left her with a sense of frustration. She would easily admit she did not understand her husband’s connection to the man.

As coats and hats were collected, Esther called for tea in the library. The trio soon found themselves seated by a nice fire, waiting for libations. Though from the empty brandy glass on the side table it would appear Crowe had already welcomed himself to refreshment. 

“Crowe, man, what brings you down to Sanditon?” Babington began.

“Just a friendly visit,” Crowe answered. “Things can get quite boring in London society, especially when abandoned by one’s friends.”

Esther sucked a breath in through her teeth, her smile growing tight and her eyes cutting. “Sorry to have disappointed you,” she said, no one missing the disdain in her tone. “We’ve been somewhat preoccupied.”

Crowe easily ignored her unspoken accusation. “Yes, word of Mrs. Parker’s illness has been making the rounds. How is she?”

“Finally on the mend, it would seem,” Babington spoke quickly, anticipating his wife. “We are happy to report she has pulled through the worst of it.”

Crowe nodded, though the arrival of the tea, soon followed by Sidney, deterred any response. The two friends greeted each other with easy nods, and very little fanfare.

“Sidney, you’ll stay for tea?” Esther asked.

He declined. “I would like to return to Charlotte. I am sure she will be waking soon, and Dr. Fuchs is to visit this afternoon. I do not wish to be absent for either event. I thank you again for your care of Nathaniel. Depending on Dr. Fuchs’ prognosis, we hope to be back in our own home in the next few days.”

“Take the carriage,” Esther instructed.

He gave her a small bow before turning to go.

“Parker,” Crowe called, scrambling up to follow him out into the hall. “Shall I walk out with you?”

Sidney gave him a curious frown but nodded. 

“I’m glad to hear your wife will soon be recovered,” he said as they walked towards the door.

“Yes,” Sidney answered. “Thank you.”

There was a tension between them that neither could name. It was not one born of malice, rather time and divergence of paths. Since his marriage, Sidney had not seen much of Crowe. Nights of carousing and merriment making were behind them, and it seemed there wasn’t much the two men shared in common. 

When they stepped into the cold air, Crowe stopped him with a hand.

“I have a letter for you,” he said simply. He pulled the folded missive from his pocket and held it out to him. 

Sidney broke the seal and read, his brow lowering in confusion. 

“What is this?” He asked. “How?”

“I would think the letter easy enough to understand,” Crowe teased dryly. “Carothers wants a meeting with you. I’ve also spoken with Sibley and Ross. Both are very interested and eager to see you when you're next in London. Once Mrs. Parker is well enough, of course.”

Sidney shook his head, unsure whether the lack of sleep was truly playing tricks with his mind. “You did this?”

Crowe merely shrugged. “I am not much use in domestic situations, but I would like to be of some help when I can.”

Sidney said nothing, struggling to sort through all that was rushing through his mind. “But Carothers? Westmoreland made it quite clear the night of the party there would be no success there.”

Crowe’s smile grew somewhat mischievous. “Yes, well, as to that. Lady Westmoreland asked me to pass along their well wishes and the hope that Mrs. Parker makes a full recovery soon.”

This time there was no way to mask the confusion on Sidney’s face. 

“I believe whatever passed between you two the night of the dinner party may have prompted this change,” Crowe answered, a fleeting look of significance on his face.

Sidney knew that was all the explanation he would get. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.” 

He pulled Crowe into an awkward hug, but neither man was quick to pull away. There was soon a natural end to the embrace, and Sidney gave Crowe a half smile before climbing into the carriage, ready to return to his wife and share with her the hope they’d just been handed. 

Thank you for reading!

I know Georgiana didn’t appear in this one. She truly did get delayed ;) but she and a surprise will show up next chapter as we approach the end on this particular tale.


End file.
